The Boy Who Lived
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: COMPLETE. A young boy retreats into a fantasy world when he witnesses the murders of his parents. Casefile. Established Tiva relationship. Follows my story Feeling Better?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. Or Harry Potter. Or maybe I do. No, I totally don't.

Spoilers: This section becomes complicated and bizarre. The main spoilers are from my long series of fics, but there may be things up through the current season of NCIS and the Harry Potter books. The latter is really only quasi-spoiler-y, general HP-verse knowledge and nitpicky non-plot details only.

Summary: A young boy retreats into a fantasy world after his parents are murdered. Story immediately follows _Feeling Better?,_ which is in turn the continuation of many, many things, the gist of which gives us established Tiva. Full details and order of series in my profile.

* * *

He peered through the slats of the closet door, too scared to remain completely in the dark. It had started with a knock on the door and a man shouting at Daddy. The shouting had moved into the living room and Mommy had picked him up from the sofa in the den where they had been reading together to carry him to her bedroom. That had been the thing that had really told him something was wrong – he was a big boy, almost seven and a half years old. He wasn't a baby who needed to be carried, but the loud shouting made him glad Mommy had.

She had also set him down gently in the closet, handed him Go Go Bear, who he now was clutching tightly in his small hands, and told him that he had to be quiet no matter what happened. When he had asked her why, she had said, "Because I love you and I know you're very brave." Confused, he had crouched down as she had closed the door, leaving him in the dark, surrounded by the smell of his parents' clothes.

The shouting from the living room was getting louder and Mommy was dialing the telephone. She whispered, "I need the police! There is a man in my house. He has a gun. He's arguing with my husband and I think…" A loud bang made her jump. "Oh my God! Please, you have to send them right away! I don't want to…"

The phone dropped from her hand as a man shoved the bedroom door open. Staying very quiet in his hiding spot, he watched the man wave a shiny black gun in the air. "Call the cops, huh?" He raised his foot and stomped down. "Won't matter. Too late for you."

"What did you do to Greg?"

"Same thing I'm gonna do to you…Joanne, is it?"

"You bastard." Mommy said it like it was a bad word.

The man just smiled. "I saw a kid in the pictures out there. He here?"

"It's one in the afternoon. He's in school," she lied. He bit his lip. He had stayed home from school because he had a tummyache and threw up after breakfast. Lying was supposed to be wrong, but it didn't feel that way right now. His tummy was starting to hurt again, though.

"Good. He take the bus?"

"In the morning. His grandmother picks him up in the afternoon." She wiped her hands under her eyes, but didn't stop crying. "We…we're usually…working." She fell against the bed. "Please…"

The man tried to drag her up from the floor by the elbow. "Stand up. Die with dignity."

"No…please…"

"Have it your way." A bang and a flash ended Mommy's sobs and she collapsed to the floor. She was staring directly at the closet. Her eyes were frightening. The man looked around the room and left. A loud car engine started outside the house and quickly faded away.

The boy waited for what felt like forever before pushing open the closet door. "Mommy?" He had been trying to say Mom lately so the boys in his class wouldn't make fun of him, but no one could hear him now. "Mommy?" Not even her. She continued to stare at the closet with her scary eyes. He tried once more, reaching out to touch her. "Mommy, say something." She was warm and…different. He tried not to cry. Dead people weren't supposed to look at…

Dead.

He ran. He didn't even look for Daddy. There had been a bang right before Daddy had stopped shouting. A bang like the man's gun had made when… He ran out the back door, Go Go Bear still firmly grasped in his hands.

He needed to find somewhere safe.

Go Go Bear fell to the ground.

Somewhere safe.


	2. Chapter 2

Ziva yawned, trying to take another sip from her empty coffee cup before reaching across Tony's body to grab his. His lack of protest indicated that the guest speaker had put him to sleep, which was soon confirmed with a loud snore. Thankful they had grabbed their usual seats in the back of the room, she finished his coffee and dropped her head on his shoulder, the wool of his sweater soft but scratchy on her cheek. The comforting scent of his cologne was well on its way to putting her to sleep as well when someone tapped her on the arm. Slightly annoyed, she turned to McGee. "Yes?"

"Come on. We've got a case."

She checked her joy and hesitated before waking Tony. "Are you joking?"

"Gibbs is already out the door."

"Fantastic." McGee made his way out of the room as she leaned close to Tony and breathed into his ear, "Rise and shine, my little hairy butt."

"Ugh…huh?" He blinked at her a few times. "Lunch?"

"Case."

He grinned and stretched his arms over his head. "And miss this…what is that guy talking about?"

"No idea."

They were at the door when he tried to turn back. "Hold on, I forgot my coffee."

"You finished it."

"I did?"

"Yes." She took his hand and pulled him toward the bullpen. "I'll get you another coffee later."

"Wait a sec…why are you offering to…did you steal my coffee while I was sleeping?"

"You weren't drinking it."

"So that makes it fair game?" She knew him well enough to be able to feel his gaze instinctively. "Well, you aren't using your ass right now. Does that mean I can…"

"No, it doesn't." Gibbs' interruption was enough to make Ziva realize she was still holding Tony's hand. She took off toward her desk to retrieve her gear.

Tony was more casual, following her rather than getting his own things. "She took my coffee! Of all people, I'd think you…"

Gibbs was unmoved, interrupting, "Is there something you didn't understand about us having a case?"

"Something good, boss?"

"Double murder and a missing kid." Ziva flinched in sympathy as Gibbs delivered a harder smack than usual. "Good enough for you, DiNozzo?"

"It didn't mean it like that, I just meant…"

"David!" She held up her hand to catch the keys violently flung in her direction. "Gas the truck!"

"Where are we going?"

As Gibbs had disappeared into the elevator, McGee filled in, "Silver Spring. I've got the address and details. Lt. Gregory Nelson and his wife Joanne were murdered in their home less than an hour ago. She managed to call 911 before the gunman killed her."

"One shooter?" Ziva pressed the call button as she and McGee waited for the elevator; Tony was still at his desk, taking his time getting his gear together.

"She specifically says a man with a gun on the 911 tape. Local LEOs arrived about five minutes after the operator lost the signal, but they didn't find anyone but the lieutenant and his wife, both shot in the head."

"And the child?"

"No one knows. His name is Henry Nelson, age seven. We just found out that he…hey!" McGee's head snapped forward from a sudden blow. "Tony, what the hell?"

"That was for not mentioning the kid being involved earlier. You know Gibbs has a short fuse on these things." He slapped McGee again, but on the back this time, as they stepped into the elevator. "But points for saying hell instead of heck."

"Uh, thanks. I think."

Ziva pinched Tony in an uncomfortable place, drawing a satisfied smirk from McGee, and said, "What else do we know about the boy?"

"Oh, well, like I said, he's seven and…" he paused to look at his notes, "and he wasn't in school today. The school gave us the number for the grandparents. Talking to them was what put Gibbs in such a good mood. I think they're going to get to the house around the time that we do, so…"

"So let's hope they don't have heart problems?"

Ziva was about to reprimand Tony for the joke when she glanced at his serious expression. "Perhaps it would be best for us to drive slowly."

* * *

McGee aimed his camera and took several shots of Joanne Nelson's body, swallowing hard as he focused on the deceptively neat hole in her forehead. He took a step to the side and found and angle that would accommodate both the body and blood spatter in the frame. 

"Did you photograph the telephone?"

He checked the small screen to make sure he'd gotten the entire pattern in his shot before answering Ziva's question, "I was just getting to that." The cordless phone lay on the floor a few feet from the body and he was grateful to move on to a new subject. "All set."

Ziva picked up the receiver and dropped it into a plastic evidence bag, leaning close to the carpet to make sure she had collected all pieces of the broken telephone. "Perhaps the killer stepped on this. I doubt simply dropping it would have caused this damage. Did the…"

Tuning her out, McGee knelt beside the body. He decided the bullet hole was a little too far to the left. No reason to think every brunette with a hole through her forehead was…

"Tim, are you all right?"

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "I was just thinking. Sorry." He looked at Ziva. "Were you saying something?"

"Did the 911 operator get a recording of the killer's voice before the telephone was destroyed?"

"Oh…I don't know. We don't have the tape yet. Or, we do, but it was sent straight to Abby because we had to come to the scene." He took a deep breath. "Did you find the shell casing?"

"No. It appears that the killer was smart enough to take it with him. A professional, perhaps."

"Yeah." McGee stood, allowing his camera to bump against his chest as he turned away from the body. He allowed Ziva to go on for a moment before saying, "Was the closet open when the police got here?"

She was at his side more quickly then he anticipated. "They cleared the entire house before we arrived, so we'd have to ask them. Why?"

"Nothing. It just looks…off." He couldn't quite describe the gap between otherwise evenly spaced articles of clothing, so he asked, "Do you leave your closet open?"

She raised an eyebrow and regarded him skeptically. "I live with Tony. I consider myself lucky when I don't have to wade through a sea of dirty laundry on the way to the bathroom. We have a basket in the bedroom, and we even have our own washer and dryer now, but he still refuses to…"

"Maybe we should check on what he and Gibbs are up to," McGee interrupted, not wanting to hear a story about Tony, Ziva, and clothes on the floor.

"All right. I think all there is to finish in here is…Ducky. Are you done with the lieutenant?"

The medical examiner tapped a gloved finger against his hat. "Yes. I'm afraid he looks much the same as his unfortunate wife." He sighed and set his bag on the floor, dropping into a crouch. "Jethro is out front; Mrs. Nelson's parents have just arrived, poor folks. I believe Tony is still poking around the rest of the house."

"They were later than we thought they would be. Thanks, Ducky." Ziva walked confidently from the room. McGee could hear her chatting with Palmer in the hallway.

He hung back for a moment, slightly bothered that, now that he looked carefully, the woman's eyes appeared to be staring into the open closet.

"Something wrong, Timothy?"

"Just something I need to ask the first officers on scene about." He took one last long look at the body before asking, "Are you okay in here, Doctor?"

Ducky patted his arm. "Never fear. We'll take good care of her. And the boy will turn up."

"I'm sure he will. I've just got this weird feeling." McGee left him to talk to Mrs. Nelson.

Palmer stopped him in the hallway. "Have you seen the kid's room yet? I was just telling Ziva that I peeked in, and it's pretty cool."

"The _kid_ is missing," McGee spat.

"Yeah, but they're going to find him. Anyway, check out the room. Harry Potter theme. I'm jealous." Palmer pointed toward a door enthusiastically before pushing his glasses up his nose and suddenly standing a little straighter. "Or I would be, if I were a little kid."

"Sure." In spite of the situation, McGee had to admit that he was impressed when he looked inside the room. The moment passed when he blinked and imagined he saw the woman's eyes staring blankly into the closet.

* * *

Tony was gratified to find that the Nelson family hadn't taken down the screens and put up the storm windows yet. If he leaned just close enough to make his ear uncomfortably cold, he could…hear every third word Gibbs was saying to the hysterical old lady just beyond the police tape. 

A nudge at his calf startled him, but when he looked down he saw covered shoes instead of some furry creature. "Did you just kick me?"

"I'm still wearing my gloves, so I didn't want to poke you." Ziva leaned in front of him to get a look out the window. "What's going on?"

"Gibbs is explaining to the wife's parents why they can't come in the house or see the bodies. She's a basket case and he's your typical stoic World War II vet. I thought he was going to salute when Palmer wheeled the first stretcher out. Oh, there she goes again!"

The woman made a halting dash for the door, only to be stymied by the crime scene tape and Gibbs hand on her shoulder. "Every few minutes she tries to get up here."

"I'm sure she's worried about her grandson."

Tony turned away from the window, the entertainment suddenly evaporating. "Local cops are coordinating with our Probie Patrol. Well, the NCIS Probie Patrol, since we've got our one and only Probie occupied. No one's found him yet."

"What about in this room?"

"I think we'd have noticed if he was in here."

She rolled her eyes. "I meant what did you find in terms of evidence. Was there a casing?"

"Nope, just the lamp knocked off the table. Gibbs got to say the killer 'policed his brass.'" He crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the bloody splotch on the carpet. "I doubt we're looking at a random home invasion…"

"Were we ever?"

He trailed her toward the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house. "I'm just being thorough. Maybe if you'd let me finish?" He waited until she'd gotten the sarcastic looks out of her system before going on, "Thank you. I was trying to say that I doubt we're looking at a random home invasion _because_ the husband let the killer in and had an argument with him. Now, the wife didn't give a name on the tape…"

"When did you hear the tape?"

"Gibbs told me. He seemed to have it memorized. Anyway, if she knew who he was, she would have said something to the operator, right? So I'm thinking we've got a dead guy…"

"And a dead woman and their missing child," she added, inspecting the yard through the kitchen window.

"Did you interrupt me this much when we were just partners?"

"There is a panda in the back yard."

Her non sequitur threw him off the snappy comeback he'd been preparing. "A…panda?"

"Yes." She turned to look at him for a moment before moving toward the sliding glass doors as if a suburban panda were the most natural thing in the world.

"So you're gonna go wrangle it?"

"What?"

"Well, with your experience, aren't you our unofficial zoological expert?"

"A stuffed toy panda," she clarified, moving closer to the open sliding glass doors. He followed her out, still not seeing the panda and brushing past a policeman stationed at the rear of the house. Ziva was already on the edge of the patio by the time she asked, "Why is there a toy on the lawn?"

"There's lot of toys out here."

She pointed to a black and white object at the base of a tree. "A stuffed toy is not normally found outside."

"Oh, yeah. Well, kids leave stuff outside all the time. Or we figured the kid dropped it on his way out the back gate there. Didn't pick it up because we were afraid of disturbing the crime scene, you guys being so touchy and all."

Tony grinned as the officer got the second-degree evil eye from Ziva. "Did anyone check the tree fort?"

The officer hitched up his belt and said, "There's no ladder, and it's about, uh…" He shielded his eyes unnecessarily as he looked much further into the cloudy sky than the top of the tallest tree in the yard. "Well, it's high. No way the kid could've gotten up there."

"Perhaps he climbed the tree."

"He's a seven year old kid, not a monkey, lady."

Tony judged that he could probably make it up the tree with a minimal effort. "But why would a kid with a cool tree fort be afraid to go up to it? Anyway, kids don't land when they fall at that age; they bounce."

"Look, I've been standing here and no one's been moving around up there. We shouted and no one answered. If you were a little kid and the police came, wouldn't you answer?"

"Not if you saw your parents murdered," McGee said softly, prompting the three on the patio to turn.

Tony was surprised by the somber look on McGee's face. "What makes you think that?"

"The grandmother keeps saying that she's sure he was home. That means he might have seen what happened. Maybe we're looking at this all wrong and it's really a kidnapping."

"Tim, you're looking a little off." Tony moved to steady his colleague with a hand on his arm. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, I just…did you see the wife's body?" When Tony shook his head, he continued in a whisper, "She looks…the bullet hole in the forehead…she just looks a little like Kate, that's all. Or she did when I first looked at her and then I started thinking about the little boy hiding in the closet and seeing it happen."

"It's okay, Probie. Relax. You're over that." He was even more confused by McGee's uncharacteristic response to the scene than he had been by Ziva's panda announcement. "What's with the sudden trip down memory lane?"

McGee pouted, his top lip disappearing completely, and muttered, "I've been trying to include her in my novel."

"I thought you put her in _Deep Six_?"

He suddenly became more animated, "As someone who was gone before it started. She deserves better than that. I think she'll be a team leader from another region who Tibbs has a conversation with in MTAC – something that subtly makes her memorable. I haven't quite worked it out."

Tony smiled as McGee went on and turned to the spot where Ziva had been beside him. "Do I know how to distract him or…" An empty set of blue booties was the only thing next to him now. "Ziva?"

"Up here!" She was hanging in the open door of the tree house, working her legs against the trunk to propel her body through. A moment after she was in, her head popped out. "The boy is here."

In spite of his urge to make up for whatever had earned him the headslaps from earlier – whatever it had been, because he honestly couldn't remember – Tony curbed his urge to start a footrace to the front lawn. "Go alert the proper authorities, Probie."

"Really?"

"I can't look at you when you make the sad bulldog face. Accept the hugs and kisses and handshakes of the old people with my blessing."

Tony watched McGee leave with a bounce in his step before approaching the tree where the uniformed officer was scratching his head. "How d'ya think she got up there?"

He confidently grabbed a branch. "I suspect it went something like this." He swung himself up, but overestimated the necessary force, flipping himself over and off the branch back to the ground. "She probably did it more gracefully," he grunted, "plus I forgot this." He grabbed the stuffed panda off the ground before rapidly ascending to escape the insolent laughter of the man below. He didn't appreciate his timing until a scream, presumably of joy, echoed through the yard. "Grannies love the Probie," he joked to himself before turning his focus to the task of actually getting into the tree house. "Panda coming in!" he called, tossing the toy through before swinging himself over.


	3. Chapter 3

Ziva caught the edge of the wooden platform, McGee and Tony's voices drifting up through the yellowing leaves of the tree. The climb had been fairly easy for her, but she doubted a child would have had the same lack of difficulty. The mystery was solved when she hoisted herself up and saw a rope ladder that had been pulled into the small, open room. Smart. More importantly, she saw a pair of eyes watching her from the corner furthest from the door. Before pulling herself the rest of the way into the tree house, she said, "I'm Officer David. I'm here to help you."

The boy, who she recognized from the photographs that had been prominently displayed throughout the house, blinked at her. "You're an Auror?"

Tony's summons from below prevented her from correcting the boy's pronunciation. "Up here!" She pushed up and pulled her legs into the tree house, returning the boy's smile and saying, "You can call me Ziva."

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Right." She paused before poking her head out the door. "Right." She began to suspect that she'd been wrong about…something. The boy seemed far too calm and even pleased. She leaned out to say she had found him before giving him her full attention again. "Why are you up here?"

"I'm hiding."

"From who?"

He looked at her with seriousness that seemed misplaced in such a young boy. "You-know-who."

"Voldemort?" she asked before she could stop herself, not wanting to sound ridiculous. The boy, however, nodded enthusiastically. She went against her instinct to shake him back to reality and continued, "Was…Voldemort here?"

He nodded again, scooting across the floor until he was very close to her. "You can protect me from dark wizards."

"You seem very confident about that."

"Because you're an Auror. And you didn't come in with your wand out." He pointed to the SIG Sauer, safe in its holster on her belt, adding in a whisper, "You aren't doing dark magic with your wand."

"Did Voldemort…use his wand to…" She searched her memory for the proper wording. The boy seemed comfortable thinking she understood him and could protect him; she saw no reason to disturb that trust at the moment. Recalling the information she needed, she asked, "Did Voldemort use _Avada Kedavra_ on your parents?"

He suddenly wrapped his small arms around her and his breath came in hitching gasps. "I…I…think so. He didn't say it. There was a flash…and a bang…and then Mommy was…" Ziva slipped her arm around his shaking shoulders as he began to sob.

From somewhere outside, she heard Tony shout, "Panda coming in!" just before a black and white blur sailed through the door and went straight through the rough window on the opposite wall.

"It's okay. It's just my partner," she said to reassure the boy before smirking at Tony, who was now struggling into the tree house. "Nice throw."

"You could have told me there was a ladder." He managed to pull himself in, only to hit his head on the low roof. "Ow!"

"I didn't know you were coming up."

The boy wiped his face and smiled at Tony. "And your spell wasn't very good."

"She's been talking about my spelling?" Tony gave Ziva an evil eye as he squatted beside her. She noticed the heat from the exertion of his climb radiating off his body and leaned a little closer, reaching for the rope ladder. He had a nice woodsy smell overlaying his cologne and a little bit of sweat.

The boy, who had appeared to recover from his crying very quickly, didn't appear to think anything was happening on a less than professional level. "The charm you used to send Go Go Bear through the door was too strong."

"My arm was too strong?"

"Charm," he corrected.

Before Tony could ask for a clarification, Ziva waved the boy toward the door. "I believe it's safe to climb down. Your grandparents are eager to see you."

He peeked over the edge and looked back to her. "Will you go first?"

"Of course." She maneuvered around Tony in the tight quarters, taking a moment longer than necessary as she again noticed his scent.

A few moments later, the grey-haired woman who had been shouting at Gibbs earlier was shoving her out of the way to get to the boy, descending the ladder. "Harry! Harry, you're all right!" She seized him in a tight hug before he was able to untangle his foot from the bottom rung. "Oh, we were so worried!"

"Grandma, it's okay…"

Ziva turned to Tony, who had just leaped down from the ladder to stand beside her. "I thought the boy's name was Henry."

"Harry's the same thing…like Anthony and Tony."

She frowned at him. "I don't see how it's the same. It does make things slightly less odd though."

"Like the Harry Potter thing he's got going on?"

His awareness came as a complete shock. "What?"

"What?" he echoed, looking at her in a confused way. "Didn't you see his bedroom?"

She lowered her voice to a whisper, calmer now that she was again the one with the firmest grasp of the situation, "In the tree house, he seemed to think he _was_ Harry Potter. He said that Voldemort killed his parents."

Another whisper replied, "Could he describe him?"

Tony jumped. "Don't sneak up on me like that, boss."

"Ziva didn't seem to have a problem." Gibbs gave her a look. "So did he see the guy?"

"It appears that McGee's thought about the closet was correct. The boy says that he saw a man kill his mother."

"You get a description?"

"Not yet."

"Are you waiting for an invitation?"

"I thought perhaps you…right." She walked up to where Harry was still being affectionately mauled by his grandmother and knelt. "Um…Harry, do you think you could describe…Voldemort to me?"

He looked nervously around the now crowded backyard. "Is there somewhere he can't get me?"

"We could take you back to our headquarters."

"Really?"

"Where are you taking him?" the grandmother asked, grabbing Ziva's shoulder and trying to push her back. "You aren't taking him away!"

Gibbs gently disengaged her hand. "You're welcome to follow us to the Navy Yard, Mrs. Avery."

"Well, can't we bring Harry ourselves? Maybe tomorrow when he's had some time to…"

"Forget some of the details?"

"Agent Gibbs, my grandson has been through…" she paused as she glanced fearfully at the house, "a lot today! And he wasn't even feeling well this morning, so I can't imagine how you think it would help…"

"Grandma, I want to go with Ziva," Harry interrupted.

"Honey, you don't know what you're saying! You don't want to go with these strangers!" She cast a scathing look at Ziva, still kneeling beside the boy. "You want to stay with me and Grandpa. Right? Right?"

His eyes welled as he looked to Ziva for help, but it was the grandfather who came to the rescue, quietly saying, "Let him make his own decision, Marion." He leaned over so he was eye-level with the boy. "Henry, your grandma and I are just worried about you. Do you really think you'll feel safer if you go with these people?"

"I'm scared, Grandpa." He looked at Ziva and smiled. "They make me feel safe."

"Okay." The man stood and turned to Gibbs, who jerked his head in the direction of the car.

Ziva took Harry's hand and led away, in spite of the weakened protests of his grandmother. When she leaned over to help him buckle his seatbelt in the backseat of the car, he whispered, "Grandma and Grandpa are Muggles. I know they're scared already, so I didn't want to scare them more because I don't think they know about our world."

"Right." She heard the click of the seatbelt catching, a feeling that she was out of her comfort zone settling in her stomach. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Don't leave."

"I'll just be right outside the car." She carefully closed the door before his begging became irresistible, but was careful to remain close to the back door rather than going to meet Gibbs. She called, "Gibbs…would you ask Ducky to ride back with us?"

"Any particular reason?"

She lowered her voice as he came up to her. "I believe his expertise might be useful."

He regarded her dubiously, but nodded. "Fine." Turning away, he shouted, "Ducky, with us! McGee! Ride back with Palmer!"

"No!" She tugged his arm. "I may need him, too."

"You need McGee and Ducky, in addition to the two of us, to guard the kid?"

"If I were claiming I needed Tony, I can see where you would be suspicious, but…"

He cut her off, his annoyance in full force, "All right, enough crap, Ziva. Just spit it out."

She swallowed and said, "The boy seems to think he is Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter?"

"He's a character in a series of books and films who…"

"Don't give me the McGee-with-computers explanation."

"The boy has convinced himself he is a fictional wizard. If he saw his parents murdered…" she trailed off. "When Harry Potter was young, a dark wizard named Voldemort murdered his parents."

"And that's why you think he thinks he's this character?"

"He told me that he saw Voldemort use his wand to perform the killing curse on his mother. He pointed to my SIG when he mentioned the wand."

"So we need McGee to tell us what all the Harry Potter stuff is about?"

Ziva held back a more offended reply and said, "Well…I know a few things, but I think it would be wise to…"

"Okay. McGee!"

"Okay?"

"If the kid wants to be Harry Potter, let him. Ducky can probably tell us if it's going to do more harm than good and you and McGee can handle the questioning, if you're the ones who understand this…stuff."

"Okay." Ziva joined Harry in the car, ignoring McGee's curious gaping through the window as Gibbs spoke with him.


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs set two cups of coffee on the conference room table and pushed one across it as he sat. Burt Avery removed the lid and inhaled. "You don't skimp on quality here, do you, Agent Gibbs?"

"Least I can do." He sipped his own coffee, watching and waiting.

Avery continued, "All Marion ever makes is that instant shit, if you'll pardon my language."

"Doesn't offend me."

"I wouldn't imagine it would, but…" he coughed harshly, covering his mouth with a closed fist. "Manners, and all that."

Gibbs was fairly certain that Avery wanted to talk, had something he needed to say. No reason to push yet. There was a long stretch during which coffee was liberally consumed. "Where did you serve?"

Avery nodded with a knowing smile. "One Marine always knows another. Is it the hair?"

"Yeah. And your Eagle, Globe and Anchor."

He pulled up his sleeve to reveal the entire tattoo on his forearm. "Didn't get it 'til I got home from Korea. My older brother served in the Pacific during World War II, the Marianas campaign. He was stationed on Tinian when…well, he really hated Spam when the war was over," he finished lamely. Gibbs allowed him a moment and he eventually continued, "I wanted to be just like him, so I volunteered when I found out I could be in a war. He asked me not to go, but he never told me what it felt like to kill another man."

"Not good," Gibbs said simply, not wanting to turn the conversation around on himself.

"Spoken like a man who knows. But I'm not here to talk about my service record, though. Unless it turns out they discharged me early and this has all been a cruel prank to squeeze and extra month out of me…" He tried to smile, but managed only a twitch at the corners of his mouth. "No, you don't strike me as a cruel man, Agent Gibbs."

He shrugged. "Depends on who you ask. Some people might say yes."

"I bet they're all in jail." Avery tipped his cup upside down, holding the position for a moment as if he wanted to ensure he finished every last drop of coffee. He placed it on the table a moment later with a hollow clack. "Can't trust a man from jail."

"Mr. Avery…"

"Is my grandson all right?" he asked unexpectedly.

"He's with two of my agents."

"I noticed he was partial to that pretty girl." He shook his head. "Quite the little lady-killer-in-training. And Marion is being questioned too?"

Gibbs cocked his head, sensing he was getting close. "Have I asked you any questions?"

"No. No, sir, you haven't. Not about…_this_, anyway. And I don't know if I should thank you or be disappointed."

"Meaning?"

"My daughter and her husband were murdered today. I'd have expected you to be a little more concerned with finding the man who did it than with making me feel comfortable."

"Mr. Avery, I can assure you that we are going to do everything in our power to find the person or persons responsible." Now was the right time. "Is there anything you think you could tell me to help us do that?"

He frowned and tented his fingers on the table. "You're sure that Marion won't be storming in?"

"I'm sure Agent DiNozzo has her occupied."

* * *

"Ziva…I mean Officer David and Agent McGee are perfectly capable of looking out for your grandson, Mrs. Avery," Tony pleaded, beginning to lose his patience. Sure, the woman had lost her daughter and son-in-law a few hours before, but that was no reason to try running out of the conference room every few minutes. He blocked the door, praying that she wouldn't resort to blows below the belt; Ziva and McGee would never let him hear the end of it if he let an old lady beat him up. "Please, the sooner you sit down, the sooner we'll finish and the sooner you can see little Harry again. Mmkay?"

"You just don't understand! We waited so long for him…Joanne's first marriage, then her divorce, and when she met Greg, they just waited so long to get pregnant and…"

"Whoa, slow down. Joanne had a previous marriage?"

"Yes. Is that important?"

"We won't know unless you tell me about it." He put on his most charming DiNozzo smile – the one he used to annoy Ziva when he knew she wouldn't like the answer to a question. "I know you've been through a lot today, but let's sit down and talk about it."

"Yes, I have." She gave a last fleeting glance toward the door before sinking into her chair on the opposite side of the table. "What did you want to know?"

"Joanne's first husband?"

"Chris. He was a nice boy. I still don't know why it didn't work out. What _are_ irreconcilable differences?"

"I think it depends on the people." He decided not to describe it based on his father's third wife, instead asking, "What's this guy's full name?"

"Christopher Harrington. I think his middle name is Nathaniel. Oh! Esq. on the end. He's a lawyer."

"With a name like that…" Tony muttered, adding the title to his notes. "And where could we find Mr. Harrington, Esq.?"

He tensed as she made a move like she was going to shoot out of her chair again. "He can't have had anything to do with this! I know they divorced, but that was almost ten years ago. They met in college and got carried away. I'm sure he'll be devastated to hear about…" She dissolved into sobs and Tony was relieved to find her jerking motion had just been a reach for the box of tissues in the middle of the table.

"And if you tell me where I can find him, we'll be able to confirm that."

"He…the last I knew, he was with a big firm in Philadelphia. I don't remember the name."

"Not a problem." Philadelphia lawyer? Tracking Harrington was going to be the easiest thing he did that day. Was Joey still on PPD? He had some other people he could call if Joey wasn't; he made a note next to Harrington's name and looked up. "Had either your daughter or son-in-law been having any problems lately?"

"What do you mean, problems?"

"Well…marital problems, or anyone who might be angry with them, any enemies…"

"Joanne and Greg were both good people who loved each other very much! I can't imagine anyone ever wanting to hurt either of them." She stood again. "I would really like to see my grandson now."

Tony pushed his wheeled chair in front of the door. Leaning back, he sighed. "You can see him once we're done here. You really don't have to worry about him. He's got two NCIS agents with him who aren't letting him out of their sight."

* * *

McGee stood outside the men's bathroom, regarding Ziva as she casually leaned against the wall after turning away two people who had wanted to go in. "Wouldn't it have been easier for me to go in with him?"

"He made a point of saying he could do it himself. If we show that we trust him, he will be led to trust us more."

"Did Ducky say that? Because I got lost about two sentences into whatever he was saying about dissociative states. Something about psychology just shuts my brain off."

She raised an eyebrow but said, "You cleared the room before he went in and we've been outside ever since. Unless he has climbed out through a ventilation duct, I don't think we have anything to worry about."

Walking to the opposite side of the wide hallway, McGee looked at Ziva carefully. She was relaxed; it might be safe to ask her…not like she could deny it now. "So…are you happy you're finally getting a chance to show off your Harry Potter expertise?"

"Finally?"

"Yeah. Remember during that case we had when you first joined the team?" He blinked and a mummified hand gripping a map was clearly visible on the inside of his eyelids. "We opened that safety deposit box and the first thing you said was that it reminded you of Harry Potter."

"That was over two years ago." She shook her head, a few soft chuckles telling him that it was okay to go a little further.

"Right, but then you denied it. And I didn't argue because I was afraid you'd do I don't know what – but I knew there was something there."

"You assumed that I was some Harry Potter freak because I said something eerie reminded me of one of the novels?"

"No, I thought you were a Harry Potter freak because you were making a specific allusion to the Hand of Destiny." He kept his expression neutral and waited.

She rolled her eyes and, as expected, corrected him, "Hand of Glory, McGee."

"So…not a Harry Potter freak?"

"I never said…" She was momentarily flustered. "What, exactly, is your point?"

"Just saying." He puffed out his chest, waggled his finger and tried a Tony line, "You think you're so mysterious, but I've had you figured out longer than you think."

She wasn't impressed in the least. "As evidenced by Officer Lisa?"

McGee felt the wind drop from his sails. "Just because she's based on you doesn't mean she has all your personality traits or habits or…"

"Quit while you're ahead. Unless you don't have me figured out well enough to know what happens next."

"I'd probably have more reason to be afraid if I were Tony," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"I said I have reason to be afraid." He turned to a careful contemplation of the bathroom door. "Should we check on him? He's been in there an awfully long…" The door made three abortive swings in before opening wide enough to allow the passage of a seven year old. "Oh, hey. All set?"

Harry held his hands up. "I washed really good. Can I have a snack?"

Ziva reached down, took his hand and began leading him the direction of the vending machines. "What would you like?"

"Do you have Every Flavor Beans?"

"Remember what I told you?"

"Right. Muggle stuff only." He smiled up at her adoringly. McGee couldn't help but smile too. Before leaving the crime scene, they'd hastily come up with a story about being undercover wizards who worked to keep the wizarding world secret from Muggles by arresting wizard criminals. As a result, they were limited in their permission to use magic or access magical products. The explanation had been satisfactory to Harry, as they were treating all the terms he used as legitimate; Ducky had thought the best course of action for the present would be to make him feel safe and understood.

For his part, Harry didn't seem terribly bothered that his parents had been murdered, or that he had watched one of the murders occur. Ducky had explained that it was all part of the coping mechanism that had brought on Harry Nelson's belief that he was Harry Potter in the first place, but McGee still found it a little weird that the boy could be excited about the fruit snacks in the vending machine, given the circumstances. Ziva just led him to the juice machine, entertaining no protests that he preferred soda. "We're going to have lunch in a little while and you can have a soda then if you would like one."

"Deal."

When Harry was resettled at Ziva's desk and eating his snack, McGee took the opportunity to whisper to her, "I didn't realize you'd be so good with kids."

"I don't see why not. It's the same way I handle Tony, just with different motivators. Do you think he regularly chooses pizza or…"

"I get it!" McGee pursed his lips for a moment. "Where _is_ Tony?"

* * *

"Are we done yet?"

Tony felt the plastic in his pen stretching as he did his best not to snap it. "Just a few more questions, Mrs. Avery. When was the last time you spoke to your daughter?"

"I told that other man earlier – the one with the grey hair!" She toyed with the pile of used tissues in front of her. "I would really like to see Harry now."

"We're almost done. Please, just…humor me."

"Fine. I spoke with Joanne this morning, she was calling to tell me we didn't have to pick up Harry from school because he was sick, and that was the last time I…" She grabbed a fresh tissue as the tears started again. "That was the last time I'm ever going to speak to my little girl."

Tony waited for the tide to ebb before asking, "Did you get the impression that she was worried about anything?"

"Worried?" The red-rimmed eyes that confronted him were something right out of a horror movie. "Do you understand that my daughter is dead? DEAD?"

"Do you understand that I am trying to do my job to catch the person that did it?"

"You could be a little more understanding about it," she sniffed.

"It's my last question," Tony protested, wishing he'd been given some backup for this not-quite interrogation. "And please remember that I'm only trying to help."

"What was the question?" she asked, a little more brusquely than he thought was necessary, given his compassionate tone.

He let it go. "Did your daughter seem worried about anything when you spoke with her?"

"Only about Harry. He had thrown up earlier that day and that was why he was out of school. Can I see him now?"

"Yeah, fine. Let's go down to the bullpen." She nearly bowled him over on her way out the door. "Yeah, I'll just follow you down there." He waited patiently at the doorway for her to discover the left she'd taken in her rush had been a dead end. When she reappeared, he waved her toward the stairs. "This way, Mrs. Avery."

"I hope you've been treating Burt better," she huffed, "because he wouldn't stand for this kind of disrespect."

* * *

"I think she told me things she didn't tell her mother. Daddy's little girl, you know."

Gibbs nodded, pen poised over his notepad as he waited for Avery's confidence. They'd been talking about Joanne Nelson's first marriage, amicable divorce and subsequent remarriage for almost twenty minutes, but they'd yet to get to the secret Gibbs could feel lurking just under the surface. "And what did Joanne tell you?"

"Well, I never mentioned it to Marion, because she would just worry. And Greg was a good father to Harry. Now I don't want you to go twisting this around to make it seem like he was a bad man, because he wasn't. I want to be perfectly clear on this, Agent Gibbs."

"We're clear."

"Good. Like I said, Greg was a good man, but he had his vices. He liked to play poker and blackjack, and when he gambled, he drank. Not a good combination there."

"Was he violent?"

"Never!"

"Right. He was a good man?"

"That's what I said, and I stand by it. He just made some mistakes." He took off his glasses and rubbed his face, taking his time to get going again. "About a month ago, Joanne came to me and told me that Greg had lost several thousand dollars at the casino and had taken a loan to cover it. And not a bank loan, if you catch my drift."

"You think he got on the wrong side of a loan shark?"

"That I can't tell you. After Joanne talked to me, he came and asked me for a loan. I didn't have the money to give him." Avery carefully cleaned the glasses he'd placed on the table not long before and replaced them on his face. "Will you be straight with me, Agent Gibbs?"

"Don't think I've been anything but straight with you, Burt."

"Too true." He inhaled sharply and spoke quickly, "Do you think this is my fault?"

"How do you mean?"

"Could I have stopped this if I'd given Greg the money? Could I have saved my daughter?" He didn't attempt to wipe away the tears rolling down his cheeks. "I just can't shake this feeling that…she didn't have to die. I could have done something."

"We don't even know if this is the reason they're dead," Gibbs reasoned, not wanting to see this man cry. "We'll look at that angle and any others that crop up. You have my word on that."

"Thank you, sir."

"Just a few more questions." At Avery's nod, Gibbs continued, "Could you tell me how much money?"

"He asked me for fifty thousand, but damned if that was all of it."

"And which casinos?"

"Those Indian ones up in Connecticut, I think."

"Quite a drive from DC," Gibbs remarked, retrieving a box of tissues from a side table.

"Don't I know it." Avery blew his nose noisily, talking if he were pretending nothing was wrong. "Marion and I have been a few times. Penny slots and bingo, mostly. Not even worth the aggravation. That traffic through New York is a killer."

"Why don't we see if she and Agent DiNozzo are finished, then we'll get you to your grandson."

"I appreciate it, Agent Gibbs." His handshake was firm, but he had an odd way of not looking eye to eye; Gibbs suspected it had something to do with the crying.

At the stairway, they bumped into Jen, who pulled him aside. "Have you seen the news, Jethro?"

"Been a little busy." He glanced over the railing to see Avery rushing down the steps and hugging his grandson in the bullpen.

Jen waited until the reunion had progressed before saying, "We may have a problem."


	5. Chapter 5

Jenny walked quickly down the catwalk toward her office, checking over her shoulder every so often to make sure Gibbs was following. "I'm surprised you aren't down there with the boy. You're so good with children."

"I'm surprised you were out of MTAC long enough to even catch the news."

She stopped short and spun around in the doorway of her outer office. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. I think it's good that you trust us enough to do our jobs without looking over our shoulders all the time while you handle the rest of the agency."

Unable to find the insult she was sure was buried in the compliment, she settled for a glare and stalked past Cynthia's desk into her office. The breakthrough she'd been expecting for months looked like it was going to happen soon; Moussad was making good on it's promise to keep her involved and a joint team of Israeli and NCIS agents was setting up in… She halted her train of thought with an ironic grin. "Does it make you crazy not knowing?"

"What do I need to know?" He sat in one of the chairs at her conference table. "As long as you aren't concealing information that one of my agents will be disappearing again…"

She interrupted, "I'm not."

"Then you can keep all the classified secrets you want. You're the director."

She ignored the barb, knowing that he was likely just attempting bait her into revealing something. "Let's just watch this." She aimed her remote at the screen and pressed play. When nothing happened, she pressed it again, making sure the button had nearly disappeared underneath the plastic casing. "Damn it." She hit the remote against the palm of her hand a few times but only achieved a sore palm. The call button functioned perfectly as she shouted, "Cynthia!" She may have just been shouting loudly enough to be heard through the door.

Her assistant appeared after a protracted interval, looking as if she knew why Jenny was yelling. "Yes, Ma'am?"

"This isn't working."

Cynthia took the remote from Jenny's hand and pushed a button near the top. "You had it on the wrong setting. There." She handed the remote back as the local news began to replay.

"Thank you, Cynthia."

She nodded and returned to the anteroom, pulling the door closed behind her. Gibbs drummed his fingers on the table. "All about delegating, right, Jen?"

"Just watch," she shot back, turning up the volume.

After an appraising glance, he turned his attention to the television, where a female anchor looked directly into the camera with an expression of concern. "Now, only on 9, a double homicide in Silver Springs. Only our cameras where there when two bodies were removed from a home in this suburban community, which neighbors assumed was a safe place to raise their families." The shot cut from Palmer loading a gurney with a black body bag on top into the van to a woman blubbering about neighborhood safety. As the shot changed again, Jenny heard Gibbs inhale sharply – on the screen, Ziva was leading Harry Nelson to the car. The anchor resumed, "Neighbors confirmed that this young boy did live in the house where the murders occurred, but no names have been released. Police refused to give a statement, saying the jurisdiction fell to the Naval Criminal Investigative Services agency, with whom we have not been able to speak with at this hour. We'll have more details on this disturbing situation as it develops. John?"

"Thank you, Angela." At the desk, John Daniels turned with a wry grin. "NCIS…isn't that the same agency that handled the case involving the panda at the National Zoo last summer?"

"That's correct, John. In fact, the agent seen in the video appears to be the same one who displayed such grace under pressure from…yes, I'm told we have that footage."

Jenny turned off the TV before they could see the entire video of Ziva wrapped up by the elephant. "Well?"

Gibbs nodded and regarded her seriously. "Ziva's not going to be happy they're showing that again."

"Jethro…"

"Relax, Jen. The kid is safe with us."

"What about tonight? Will he be safe with his grandparents?"

"I said he's safe with _us_."

"They just lost their only child! How do you expect to convince them to allow their grandchild to stay with you?"

"What makes you think I'd have him stay with me?"

"Don't play games with me."

"Look, the kid is a material witness…"

"Do you want me to get Agent Lee up here to explain what a material witness is? That excuse isn't going to fly and you know it!"

"Then I won't use it unless they tell us they won't let him stay with us." He stood and buttoned his blazer. "Now, if you'll let me tell them about this development, I can get back to my job and you can get back to MTAC."

"Agent Gibbs!" He paused with his hand on the door handle. "You still haven't told me what, exactly, you're planning to do with the boy."

"He likes Ziva. I think he should be safe with two NCIS agents guarding him."

She was on his heels as he walked out. "You're going to send him home with Tony and Ziva? A seven year old?"

"You want to take him?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Oh, wait, you're already doing that!"

Gibbs seemed to take pleasure in getting her flustered while Cynthia watched. "Think they can't handle it, Jen?"

She stood up straight, doing her best to look collected. "I didn't say that." She took a deep breath and continued calmly, "I merely expressed my surprise that they would agree to such an arrangement."

"They don't know yet." Before she could embarrass herself further, he continued, "You just told me we had to hang on to him. I'll let everyone know what's going on."

Jenny trailed him down the hall, making it three steps past MTAC before returning to the retinal scanner and retreating into the dark, comfortable room. Gibbs could handle it.

* * *

Tony sat at his desk, shifting in the hard folding chair he'd taken from a storage closet. He doubted anyone even knew they still had these metal things lurking in dark corners, waiting for people to come in and steal his comfy desk chair that he was going to have to reset the height and…

"DiNozzo! David!"

"I'm all the way across the aisle!" he objected as Gibbs strode down the stairs. He flattened his hands on his blotter to emphasize the fact that they were behaving and far away from any part of Ziva's body. Unless Gibbs was about to yell at them over the elevator rendezvous that had taken place a few weeks ago – that would explain the stare he was giving them now. He began tentatively, "Uh, boss…"

"Both of you, with me."

Tony tried to exchange a look with Ziva, but she was reassuring the kid she'd be right back and that McGee would still be there. Fixated on strangers much? "I should have watched those damn Harry Potter movies," he muttered under his breath, waiting for Ziva at the end of the aisle. He could see Gibbs' back down the hall, disappearing into a usually unoccupied office. He fell into step with Ziva and asked, "Have any idea what's going on?"

"I do not."

"Think we're in trouble?"

"Guilty conscience, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, leaning back into the hallway. "In here."

"Uh…no," Tony said somewhat shrilly, feeling bad that he'd taken advantage of Gibbs' trust like this. After all, Gibbs could just have easily separated them when they'd gotten involved, shipped one of them off to a different team. But he hadn't. And now he was going to tell them how disappointed he was that they couldn't stay the hell out of the elevators and keep the hot, sweaty… Tony shuddered reflexively. Separate home and work, starting….now! "Just that I can't think of any other reason you'd single us out."

"Maybe I want to talk about the case away from potential suspects."

"Whoa, we think the grandparents are involved?" Tony eagerly asked, glad to have an alternate topic to discuss. "The old man give you something when you talked to him?"

He got a slap on the back of his head for his interest. "We haven't confirmed their alibi yet."

"Actually, Gibbs," Ziva interrupted while consulting her PDA, "we were able to confirm that they were both at a meeting with their financial advisor at the time of the murders. McGee spoke with Sean Stockwell at his office in Fairfax, and he stated that they were with him from ten until noon. We can see if there are any surveillance cameras to confirm it."

"Fine, but that's not our first concern. Something funny, DiNozzo?"

Tony covered his mouth, muffling his last few chuckles. "Nothing. Just think it's funny their investment guy is named Stockwell."

Gibbs gave him a sobering look. "There's something I need to ask the two of you. Can Harry Nelson stay with you tonight?"

"Of course."

"W-what?" Tony sputtered, shocked that Ziva had answered apparently without thinking, much less asking him what he thought about it.

"Good." Gibbs was also clearly not interested in Tony's input.

He couldn't just let this go. He had to stand up for…for keeping work and home apart! "I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Why…not?" he parroted, looking at Ziva incredulously.

She turned to Gibbs in a very businesslike way, "Will it be for just one or two nights until other arrangements can be made?"

"If it takes that long."

Tony found himself again temporarily unable to produce original phrases. "If it takes that long?"

"Are you feeling all right?" Ziva's hand rested on his shoulder.

He covered it with his own. "Are we really agreeing to take a kid?"

"Overnight, DiNozzo" Gibbs said. "We just need to keep him safe."

Her hand dropped from his shoulder instantly. "You think he is in danger?"

"Channel 9 has footage of you putting the kid into the car."

Tony appreciated the V-neck of Ziva's sweater as she took a deep breath and said, "The killer knows we have a witness."

"Yeah. That's why I want you two to play bodyguard for a day or two."

"Uh, question?" Tony tore his gaze away from more aesthetically pleasing views and looked at Gibbs. "Why do we think we're gonna catch this guy in just two days?"

"Because I'm telling you we are. Now I think we should break the news about your little slumber party to the grandparents." He walked out of the room without a backward glance.

Tony whirled on Ziva, but some of his momentum was taken away when he found that she had been standing immediately behind him. "You couldn't take five seconds to ask me before you volunteered us for adventures in babysitting? Because I highly doubt you're inviting Elizabeth Shue."

"What are you talking about?"

He had no patience to explain at the moment. "Doesn't matter. But you need to answer my question."

"Tony…" She made a few abortive attempts to speak before finally saying, "You're right. I shouldn't have agreed to this without talking to you about it. But Harry would still be staying with us."

"I just want…"

She cut him off, "He saw his parents murdered and now the killer might come after him too! That's why Gibbs wants him to stay with us; if anyone comes after Harry, he trusts us to handle it."

He allowed her a few moments to try staring him into submission before saying, "I was just trying to say that I want the illusion of being consulted in decisions that affect us as a couple. I know that once you've made up your mind about something I have no real hope of changing it…"

"Oh, you should talk!"

He acknowledged her interruption, "True. We're both stubborn and pig-headed and before you even say it that's an expression and not a comment on what your head looks like, which happens to be very nice." He paused for a breath. "I'm just saying that you should have asked me about such a major thing before you made the decision. And I think having a kid – okay, even for a few days – is counts as a major decision."

"We aren't _keeping_ him. He is a little boy who needs to be taken care of for a few days. And do you think for a second that Gibbs wouldn't have ordered us to do it if we had said no?" She placed her hands on his cheeks, holding his face in a fixed position. "Why is this so frightening for you?"

"I'm not scared." He maintained eye contact until she looked away, glad that she was apparently leaving the topic alone as she exited the room. This would be a good one to just forget about. In the hall, he remarked, "We are _never_ visiting the pound."

"What is The Pound?" She wrinkled her brow in confusion. "Some sort of _Fight Club_ bar?"

He grinned in spite of himself. "Cute. But no. Let's just say I'm afraid of what would happen if you saw a bunch of sad, fluffy puppies. I don't want hair all over the place in our apartment."


	6. Chapter 6

Abby frowned at her computer, knowing that Gibbs was not going to be happy. Sure, she'd found a match on the bullets, but the match had set off an unrelated flashing box of doom! Not unrelated, per se, but certainly unwelcome. She stared at the screen intensely, trying to will the evidence into changing. "Here's the deal, ballistics database – you change your mind and we won't have a problem. Understand?"

The screen continued to flash its awful message.

"I'll take that as a yes. So here's how it's gonna go down. I'll close my eyes and count to three, and you'll take that opportunity to disappear. And neither of us will speak of this ever again."

Flash. Flash.

"Good, we understand each other." She squeezed her eyes tightly closed. "One. Two. Two and a half."

"Three?"

Her eyes shot open as she turned, but she wasn't quick enough to look at Gibbs before the obstinate flashing box caught her eye, still on her screen like it _belonged_ there. Snotty box. "Gibbs, you messed up the spell!"

"So not what you want to be saying today, Abs," Tony said.

She reacted by wrapping Gibbs in a tight hug. "I forgot! There's a little kid. Is he okay?"

He shrugged, trying to push her arms off his neck. "Depends."

"He's having a dissociative episode," Tony explained, looking a bit perturbed. "Thinks he's Harry Potter."

"Both parents dead? Pretty good choice, I guess." Abby hugged Tony, too, assuming that the lack of attention was the reason for his sour expression, but it remained even after she'd released him. "I didn't mean to say that it was good, just that it was apt because Harry Potter…" she trailed off as she felt Gibbs' eyes boring into her back. "Right, ballistics." She rocketed to her workstation. "I have good news, but I have to warn you that it leads directly to some other news that you probably won't think is good. Bad even."

"Abby…"

"Right, stalling doesn't make you happy either but, Gibbs, you are really not going to like this. What if I tell Tony and let him tell you?"

"I'm already being punished enough, thanks," Tony said sulkily.

She nodded knowingly. "Ziva bought more food coloring?"

"No!" He glanced nervously at Gibbs, as if expecting a request for clarification, but Gibbs continued to stare impatiently at the computer.

Abby leaned toward Tony and whispered, "What color is it this time? Can I see?"

"Abby, you can check inside DiNozzo's pants later. Right now I want you to explain why that thing is flashing."

Rather than stepping up to the workstation, Tony moved back behind the table. "Didn't know you, uh, knew about, uh, the _incident_, boss."

"You wanna have a conversation about it?"

"Uh…no," Tony replied almost pleadingly. Abby ignored his glance that begged for help.

Gibbs grunted. "Good, because I sure as hell don't. Now, Abby, I'm not asking again."

"Right. No fingerprints on the casings, but I did find something smeared on them. I could see cells under the microscope, so I'm running DNA. Maybe some epithelials from the bad guy."

"We didn't find any shell casings at the scene," Tony interrupted, looking confused.

"Found them outside in the grass beside the front walkway." Gibbs finished glaring at him and turned back to her. "It's too soon for DNA to be back. What do you actually have?"

Satisfied that she'd stalled as long as possible, she dropped the flashing box on him. "The striations on the bullets match several from open investigations."

"Our case?"

"Not exactly. Or not at all, if you want to get nitpicky."

"Who?" The edge in his voice told her that she had exhausted her allotment of indulgence for this visit.

"The FBI. And the flashing means that they know we got a hit through their database, so it's only a matter of time before they come a'calling."

He scowled. "What's the connection between our case and theirs?"

"Well, I'm not supposed to know, because there were a bunch of security protocols that you don't want to hear about surrounding the info, but I found out for you anyway, because that's just the kind of girl I am."

"Abby?"

She recalled that she'd reached the end of her leash and said in a soft voice, "Mob hits." He nodded slowly, heading for the door. "Gibbs, wait! I have more!"

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Tony, who was attempting to beat a hasty retreat behind him. "Tell him." Tony froze in his tracks as Gibbs entered the elevator. His voice drifted back into the lab as the doors closed, "And keep it above the belt."

Abby grinned and Tony swiftly moved behind the table again, keeping it between them as she circled toward him. "I won't tell if you show me."

"There's nothing to show." He suddenly stopped and looked down. "Well, there's plenty there and I can't say I blame you for wanting a peek. I'm sure if I was a woman, I'd want to see an authentic Italian stallion's equipment too, but I'm not…hey!"

"I just wanna see!" Abby maintained her grip on his belt, having taken advantage of his self-aggrandizing monologue to assault him. If she could just cuff him to something…she could probably call Ziva down and get her to help.

Her fight to drag Tony toward her desk, where her handcuffs were, halted with an accented voice saying, "Am I interrupting something?"

She immediately let go of Tony's belt and he sprinted halfway across the room, shouting, "Ducky, give her a sedative!"

"I carry surprisingly few, Tony," Ducky answered without missing a beat as he dropped a file on the table. "The dead aren't terribly frisky, you know. Now, Abby, what's going on in here?"

"I think Ziva got him with the food coloring again." She pouted. "He won't even tell me what color it is."

"And you thought molesting him would resolve this quandary?"

"Nothing is wrong with Little Tony!" Tony protested. "Why are you convinced there's been another…" he shuddered, "_incident_."

"Because you've been all grumpy since you came down here, you didn't give me a very good hug and you mentioned that you were being punished," she listed, proud of herself. "Doesn't take a forensic scientist to put the clues together."

"Well that explains why you haven't been promoted to the big office with the skylight, because you put them together all wrong." He backed down and took up a defensive position behind the table in response to her glare. "Not that what you do isn't important. More important even."

Ducky stepped between them. "That does beg the question, though, what was this punishment you allegedly alluded to?"

"Gibbs decided that the best place for the little kid to stay was with us."

"Well, with vicious mobsters after him…oh!" Abby rushed back to her computer. "The sketch artist's drawing matched a guy in the system with known Mob ties! Frank Bilotti, wanted for a laundry list of offenses." She peered at the sneering mug shot on the screen. "He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd think twice about whacking a seven-year-old witness. But he can't get Harry Potter here, so Gibbs was right to keep him with us."

Tony didn't seem too thrilled that they had an identity to go with their killer. "Yeah, by 'us' I meant me and Ziva, at our place. Hopefully just for tonight."

"Awww, that's so cute!" Abby squealed, rushing at Tony to give him another hug. She ignored the fact that he kept his hands in front of his body for protection the entire time. "You get to baby-sit and play house! And soon you'll want to hear the pitter-patter of little feet of your own, and I can be their Godmother!" She continued to squeeze him tightly. "Oh, Tony! They can call me Auntie Abby and I'll make sure they listen to the right music and…"

"Abby?" he gasped.

She finally realized that he was trying to disengage her arms. And breathe. "Sorry. Did I cross the line?"

Ducky chuckled. "This from a woman who wanted you to drop your trousers a few short minutes ago."

"Hey, yeah. So, other than temporarily joining the Baby-Sitters' Club, you're sure there's nothing new and interesting happening?" She directed a pointed stare at the front of his pants.

"Nope. I'm all fleshy colored and y'know…" he trailed off, hands still forming a barrier.

"Fine. If you won't show me, will you at least show Ducky? It's okay because he's a doctor." She spun in a circle to survey the lab, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Ducky? Tony, where'd he…Tony?" She found that she was alone in the lab. "Whoa. You ask one man to look at another man's goods and they all run!"


	7. Chapter 7

A/n: I should be studying, not writing, which, incidentally, is why I haven't updated in a while.

* * *

Ziva patted Harry's arm for reassurance before leaving him at her desk with a box of crayons and a stack of plain white copy paper she'd taken from the Xerox machine. After making excuses and phone calls to various family members, his grandparents had departed not long before; Gibbs had come close to shoving the grandmother into the elevator when he saw how much her distraught attitude had upset the boy. Or he may have just been annoyed. Ziva liked to believe the former.

For his part, Harry had been nothing short of excited when he'd been informed that he would be spending the night in a 'real wizard house.' Ziva was beginning to get nervous; houseguest was one thing, but bait…she pushed Gibbs' secondary motivation out of her mind. There were still a few hours before they could go home, however, and there was plenty to do that didn't involve entertaining and protecting a little boy.

She was careful to stay in view over the partition as she tugged McGee out of the bullpen. "Did you get anything from the casinos?"

"It's actually kind of weird." He comically snuck back to his desk and returned with a file folder. "Foxwoods has records of six Gregory Nelsons and Mohegan Sun has records of four, none of whom were especially high rollers."

"That's all you found out?"

"No." He pulled out a sheet of paper. "Our Gregory Nelson went to Foxwoods once or twice a month. Never lost more than fifty dollars at poker and never played for more than an hour or so."

"He needed to take a loan for fifty dollars? The grandfather told Gibbs that Nelson came to him asking for fifty thousand." She scanned the record of Nelson's play and saw that he had just about broken even. "And, assuming that he did need the money, why would they jump right to killing him? Wouldn't they have started with something that would leave him alive, like a kneecapping, so they could get their money?"

"Well, you would know about kneecapping," McGee muttered.

"I've never actually done it myself." She fingered the SIG holstered at her waist; she'd been carrying it since returning from the crime scene, as Harry had been seated at her desk for most of that interval. "Try not to tempt me." His eyes flicked rapidly from her weapon to her face and back again. She alleviated his nervousness quickly, saying, "So, either the grandfather was lying, or the money was for something other than gambling debts. Did you find out anything else?"

Before McGee could answer, she felt a warm whisper in her ear. "Has Gibbs gone for coffee?"

She took a small step away from Tony, who had just returned from the bathroom. "Either that or he's gone to the Hoover Building to fight over turf in person."

"I thought he said he'd convinced the FBI that our identification wasn't positive," McGee said. "There were no fingerprints, Abby couldn't make a voice ID from the 911 call, the striations on the casings aren't definitive until we have the weapon, and all we have is a sketch based on a the description of a seven year old."

"Thanks for the reminder of how much work we still have to do." Tony attempted to headslap McGee, but he stepped out of range. "Anyway, you think that'd stop the FBI from trying to snake our case? I'm shocked Fornell didn't send that Slacks jerk over just to bust my balls."

She pushed away the hand on her lower back as Tony persisted. "Please remember there is a child in the office."

"I'm surprised at you, Ziva. McGee's a big boy." His hand had moved lower when he promptly returned it in spite of her discouraging him. "Aw, c'mon. I can't get some hot hand on back action through clothing at the office?"

"I was referring to your language." Ziva saw McGee roll his eyes and she pushed off Tony's hand again. He'd certainly gotten over whatever had made him so sulky and standoffish a few hours before; she would have to ask Abby if something had happened in the lab. As she swatted him away yet again, she looked from something to distract him. "I told Harry we'd get him a snack in a few minutes. Why don't you go do that?"

"Why doesn't Probie?" Tony countered, giving McGee a friendly smack on the arm. "I'm sure he knows where to get the crazy wizard food with the eyeballs and slime on top. Anyway, I deserve a break after all my efforts in eliminating the first husband as a suspect."

"What did you do?" McGee protested. "You called some guy you know in Philadelphia and he did all the work. Besides, if it _is_ a hit, how do we know this Harrington guy didn't arrange it?"

"He didn't have any suspicious withdrawals."

"He could have paid cash."

Seeing that the debate would go nowhere, Ziva stepped between the two men, settling her hands on Tony's chest. "Just go get some donuts or something." After a pause, she added, "Please."

He frowned. "It's raining."

She played her trump card. "Take my car." He kissed her cheek and ran to the elevator so quickly he had to return for his coat. She took the opportunity to say, "Bring us some coffee, too. And a juice. Harry, would you like a juice?"

The boy looked up from her desk with a smile. "Can I have pumpkin juice?"

"Um…" Tony scratched his head as he pulled his coat on, "how about apple?"

"I like apple juice." Harry held up the piece of paper he was coloring, turning it so they could all see it. "I drew a picture of your office. So far I made Agent Gibbs' desk and Ziva's desk. Go Go Bear and I are sitting at Ziva's desk." He petted the stuffed panda on the desk beside him before looking at Tony again. "I'm gonna draw you and Ziva and McGee next. You can see it when you come back."

Tony's voice betrayed his lack of interest. "Sure, kid. I'll be back in a few." He disappeared into the elevator.

Ziva waited for Harry to go back to his coloring before continuing her conversation with McGee, "So did you find out anything else about Lt. Nelson?"

"You don't want to wait until Tony realizes he's forgotten to get your car keys?"

"He has his own set, McGee. Now…Nelson?"

"Right." He looked at the file in his hands. "We don't have anything in negative in his service record and we aren't talking to his commanding officer until tomorrow. But if you want to hear about this Bilotti character…" He produced a mug shot of a scowling man with a jagged scar running down the right side of his face. "Grew up in the streets of Brooklyn, a tough kid raised by a single mother. She did the best she could, but the lure of easy money and excitement was too much for him. He turned to a life of crime…"

Ziva interrupted, "You really did mean character, then?"

"What?" McGee flushed, his eyes refocusing on the paper now clutched loosely in his hand. "Oh, well…sorry. I guess my imagination has been getting away with me today. We do have Harry Potter in the building, after all."

"Yes." She considered making a joke at the expense of his novel, but she recalled his earlier despondency when the subject had arisen at the crime scene – something reminding him of Agent Todd. She let it go. "Does Bilotti have a known address?"

"All that was listed in the file Abby probably shouldn't have gotten us from the FBI was his mother's address and a list of places he's been known to hang out. Nothing in the DC area."

Ziva ran her fingers through her hair. Gambling debts that didn't seem to exist were just the beginning. "This doesn't make sense."

"Well, I don't think the Mob wants its members advertising their whereabouts to the authorities…"

She cut him off, "I meant the gambling. And why go all the way to Connecticut? There have to be places closer to Washington."

"Atlantic City is probably half the distance," he agreed.

She tapped a finger against her lips. "Perhaps Harry can help us. He would notice if his father disappeared on weekends, yes?"

"Yes, but I doubt his mom would tell him his dad was off gambling."

"She may have let something slip." She walked to her desk and sat beside Harry in the chair she'd taken from Tony's desk. "Can we talk for a few minutes?"

"Sure. I just finished you in my picture." He carefully set his crayon down and pointed to a smiling stick woman with a lot of dark hair. "Do you like it?"

"It's very nice."

"I made your shirt blue because I couldn't find the right color in the box. I'm gonna draw McGee next."

McGee crossed his arms and protruded his lower lip slightly from his seat across the aisle on Tony's desk. "Harry, I told you it's okay to call me Tim."

"But everyone else calls you McGee."

"Yes, but my first name is Tim."

"I kno-o-o-w," Harry replied, "but everyone calls you McGee. Can't I call you McGee too?"

"Oh…right."

The distracting non-issue resolved, Ziva said, "Harry, did your father ever go away on the weekends?"

"Yes." He picked up a crayon and began to draw a new figure in his picture of the office. "He visits Uncle Glen a lot."

"Uncle Glen?" She recalled a brother named Glen Nelson from the file she'd read earlier. "And where does he live?"

Harry remained focused on his work. "London."

Ziva nodded. "And how often did your father fly to London?"

"He doesn't fly. He drives. Sometimes I get to go, but not a lot because I don't like to be in the car that long."

She pursed her lips. Leaving the topic of location alone for the moment, she asked, "And what did your father and Uncle Glen do?"

"Uncle Glen usually went to work and my dad and I stayed at his house with Emily. She's just a baby, so it's not that much fun, but Uncle Glen has PlayStation, so it's okay."

"Where did Uncle Glen work?"

"At the casino." He selected another crayon from the box. "That's where Aunt Sarah works too, but I never saw her. My dad said that she and Uncle Glen weren't very happy together. I think that means they were divorced, because none of her stuff was ever in Uncle Glen's house."

"Who's Uncle Glen?"

Ziva looked up and saw Gibbs leaning over the partition, coffee cup held loosely in two hands. "Gibbs. Harry was just telling us about his uncle who works at the casino."

"Which one?"

"I only have one uncle," Harry said, not looking up from his drawing.

Gibbs leaned further over the partition. "Hey…" Harry looked up at the sharp tone in his voice, but Gibbs smiled the moment he made eye contact. "How come I'm not in that picture?"

"I forgot what you were wearing," Harry stated matter-of-factly. "But don't worry. I'll make you when I finish with McGee."

"Okay. Hey, can you tell me which casino your uncle worked at?"

"Foxwoods."

Gibbs jerked his head at McGee, who moved quickly to his desk and began typing. "Ziva…" He pointed to the spot around the corner, sheltered by the stairwell. With a nod to the drawing, he said to Harry, "See if you can finish me while I'm talking to Ziva, okay?"

"Okay." He went to work as she followed Gibbs.

She watched him carefully for a moment before asking, "Is something wrong?"

"Slight modification for tonight – I want McGee with you two."

"Gibbs, I think Tony and I can handle…unless you don't trust that we won't be_distracted_." She wasn't a huge fan of the plan, regardless; when it had just been simply watching the boy for the night, it had sounded like a much better idea. Now…

He gave her a fleeting glare. "I know you aren't that stupid. But I've been talking to a guy I know in the Organized Crime Unit at the FBI and if Bilotti is the guy, there may be some trouble. He doesn't leave witnesses."

"You still think having Harry stay with us is a good idea?"

Gibbs looked at her significantly. "I think it should only be for one night."

"Right. So if McGee will be with us who will be with you?"

"I'll grab someone."

"Gibbs…"

"Maybe Jen will drag herself out of MTAC for a couple hours."

Ziva quickly turned a growl into a heavy sigh. Gibbs would never let it go. She hoped that the current op would settle things with Safad and Sahrawi once and for all – to get two dangerous terrorists in prison, of course. The occasional mini-interrogation from Gibbs would not be missed either. She dismissed it both mentally and verbally, "I can't get into that."

"I know. We've got other stuff to focus on."

"Like how you're hoping a dangerous killer will be…"

"Yeah," he cut her off. "If you've got a better plan for getting this guy quickly, I'd love to hear it."

"No, but…"

"I don't like it either, but I think it's best in the long run. And…"

"You would not ask us to do it if you didn't think us capable?" she filled in.

"Yes, but I was just going to remind you that you agreed to this."

"I agreed that the boy could stay with Tony and I."

"Knowing that he could be in danger."

"Well…" She couldn't deny that she had taken on the assignment with the assumption that they would be providing Harry with more than a place to sleep.

"Relax, David. This is what you do."

She rolled her eyes as she followed Gibbs back to the bullpen. Tony was standing at her desk, holding a box of donuts just out of Harry's reach. "But I picked out that one with the sprinkles especially for you. Wouldn't you like that one better?"

"I want the jelly."

"But…" Tony's head moved forward with the smack from Gibbs.

"Let him have your donut, DiNozzo."

"Of course, boss. I was just joking with him." Tony looked dejectedly into the box as Harry took the jelly donut, which was almost too big for him to grasp with one hand. "I don't really _like_ sprinkles, but…"

Ziva finished spreading a napkin over her desk to catch the powder and crumbs from Harry's donut before selecting a chocolate one for herself from the box Tony was still staring into. "Thank you."

"Hmph."

She suddenly realized that having a child in the apartment wouldn't be an entirely unique experience.


	8. Chapter 8

Frustrated, McGee hung up on Glen Nelson's answering machine for the sixth time. He had missed the start of his four o'clock shift at the casino and wasn't picking up at home or on his cell phone, which was switched off at the moment. McGee pulled up his tracer program to make sure he hadn't missed the beep that would alert him to activity on the mobile line, but no such luck.

He glanced around the bullpen, noting that he wasn't the only one meeting with difficulty. Tony had been on the phone for over half an hour with his contact in Philadelphia, trying to finally eliminate Joanne Nelson's ex-husband as a suspect. Ziva was typing with her computer monitor at an odd angle to prevent Harry, still coloring at her desk, from seeing whatever she was writing up about the case. Gibbs was walking in and out as he set up the operation that was to occur that night. He seemed less confident than he had about the whole thing earlier in the day. The fact that he'd assigned McGee to stay at Tony and Ziva's place was a pretty good indication of that.

McGee didn't really want to think about what lay in store for him tonight. He'd gotten glimpses of the couple at home and had no desire to see more; with a child in the apartment, they were bound to be more discreet, but how late would Harry stay up? Would they maintain their subtlety for his benefit? Or would he be subjected to very public displays of…well, not public, since they'd be in their apartment, but…really, just the thought of it made him downright queasy. Well, maybe not queasy, but definitely uncomfortable. He'd come to terms with Tony and Ziva at work, but he still didn't want to have images of them…not working.

Maybe Gibbs would give them an order. Or something. McGee checked his tracer program again to distract him. Still nothing.

A few minutes later, Harry interrupted his fruitless attempts to find Glen Nelson. "Wanna see my picture?"

"Oh…sure."

He held up the picture he'd been working on for the last hour or so. It was actually pretty good. "Do you like it? I put you with the computer, but you can still see your wand." He pointed to a small black L-shape, which each recognizable agent in the picture was wearing at the waist. Harry continued pointing out details in his picture, eventually coming to, "I even made your tie."

"That does look like me. And you drew Tony with the sprinkled donut." McGee glanced at Tony just in time to see him scowl. He turned his attention back to Harry. "Looks good. Are you going to keep that to remember us by?"

"Ziva said I can put it up by her desk so _you_ can remember _me_."

"I don't think we'd forget…" He trailed off as he had an idea. "Harry, do you know where your Uncle Glen might be right now?"

He shrugged, playing with some of the well organized items on McGee's desk. "He works at night. Maybe he's at work. Or on his way to work. How come?"

"Well, we want to find him to, uh…" Twin alarmed glares from both Tony and Ziva gave him pause before he continued, "To let him know what happened to your mom and dad and to let him know you're safe."

Attention was turned away from him as Harry replied, "Oh. Well, you don't have to worry about that. My grandma talked to him earlier when Gibbs let her use the phone to call everyone in our family."

"Really?" McGee ran a quick check of NCIS phone records as Harry made his way back to Ziva's desk. When he confirmed what the boy had said, he stood quickly. "Uh, do you guys know where Gibbs went?"

Ziva gave him a curt nod, having come to the same conclusion he had. "I believe he was looking for Jimmy."

"Right. Autopsy then?"

"Best place to look for the Autopsy Gremlin, Mc…uh, McGlaringly Obvious." Tony hung up his phone and leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up. "What?"

"Nothing." McGee paused on his way out of the bullpen. "That was just…really not that creative."

"So sue me. You talk to Joey D'Amico for an hour and see if you can get your whole Gemcity thing on. Not to mention the fact that I think we can stop looking at Harrington, provided this thing with…"

"Tony!" Ziva cut him off sharply.

"I wasn't gonna say anything," he protested.

McGee fled for the elevator before they could really go at it; he didn't want to deal with any of that sooner than he had to. Or more than he had to – not like it was out of the ordinary. Outside Autopsy, he found Gibbs and a frightened-looking Palmer. Gibbs was saying, "What are you so worried about? You won't be there."

"I know." Palmer fiddled with the strap of a small black bag held tightly in his hands. "What about…"

"Palmer, relax. Everything is going to work out fine."

Palmer nervously pushed his glasses up his nose. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Then why did you ask me not to say anything to Dr. Mallard?"

"Didn't want to worry him." Gibbs effectively dismissed him by turning to McGee. "You find the brother?"

"Um, not yet." He watched Palmer walk away with many furtive glances back and made his best effort to ignore him. "But he probably knows more than we thought – one of the calls the grandmother made this afternoon was to him. Bilotti may have an easier job than we thought finding out what we're…well, not exactly what…"

"I get it, McGee. If the brother is involved, he could be feeding info to the guy we're after." The expression on Gibbs' face told McGee he didn't consider that a good thing.

He couldn't help adding his own condition, "And assuming that Bilotti is the guy."

"He's our guy. If everything goes well, you'll see him spilling his guts in Interrogation tomorrow morning."

"And you're sure this is going to be safe? For Harry, I mean."

He settled a hand on McGee's shoulder and looked at him seriously. "I wouldn't put him in unnecessary danger, but this is the best way I can think of to do this. According to the FBI, Bilotti may have a contact at the DMV, so there's a good chance he'd recognize a fake address. This guy is dangerous enough without having any extra reason to be on his guard. We've got additional people in on this. And if he does get to you guys at Tony and Ziva's place, I know you can handle it."

"Thanks, boss."

"Don't get complacent. Head back upstairs and tell them we're about ready to go. Ten minutes."

"Right." McGee returned to the bullpen, very little concern alleviated. The plan just seemed like there were too many things that could go wrong. As Tony and Ziva's conversation became audible – and seemed not to have moved far from where it had begun – he realized that he could be faced with more problems than just trying to blend in with their home life for the night.


	9. Chapter 9

Leaving early – earlier than expected, anyway – didn't have the same charm as it could have had under other circumstances. Usually leaving when there was still a hint of orange or red in the sky meant the possibility of a leisurely dinner at Valentino's, maybe a movie and then home for…things that weren't going to happen tonight. Tony idly clicked his mouse, closing files and logging out. Did it really count as going home if you actually had to keep working? As a glorified babysitter, no less?

His musing was suddenly interrupted. "Can you take this out to the car?"

Tony looked up as Ziva dropped a red duffle bag on his desk. "What is it?"

"Harry's things."

He skipped the more obvious question of 'Why can't you take it?' as that was likely to get him in trouble, instead asking, "Where'd this come from?"

"Don't you remember his grandmother making a scene about Harry not having any extra clothes when she was trying to convince us that he should not remain with us?"

"I can think of a few more convincing arguments," Tony muttered, standing and stretching.

She ignored him, continuing, "His grandfather retrieved some of his things from their home and brought them to us, so he has clothing and a toothbrush and…"

"Bricks?" Tony dropped the bag back on his desk after hefting it. What kind of person needed that much stuff for one night? And not even a full-grown person – a little kid. By Tony's estimation, he could spend a night somewhere with less than a pound of gear, so, logically, someone a third of his size who didn't even shave should have been able to survive with a third of that. This was even more confusing than the mystery of the dishtowels, and he still hadn't resolved that. He unzipped the bag. "Books? The bag is weighted down with…hey, Matchbox cars!"

"Tony!" His hands were swatted away before he could pick up what looked like a yellow Mustang with flames on the hood. Ziva zipped up the bag. "Don't go through his things."

"Why not? He's gonna be going through our stuff." She gave him the squinched-up look that demonstrated her disapproval while daring him to go on. He complied. "What? He's a little kid and kids get into stuff they shouldn't. In fact, do you think I should run home first and put all the cleaning products on high shelves?"

"He's seven, Tony, not a puppy." She returned the duffle to her own desktop, shooting a glance over her shoulder. "Besides, how would you be able to identify cleaning products?"

Acknowledging that the gauntlet had been thrown, he met her in the center of the bullpen. "Y'know, I survived for years, perfectly content in a, uh, moderately clean environment, before you came along."

"Yes, and now you just let me take care of it."

"Only because you clean even when things aren't dirty. Tell me, what is the point washing the kitchen floor once a week whether or not it's got anything on it?"

"If you clean regularly," she said slowly, "the dirt cannot collect."

He could tell he was pushing her buttons by playing dumb and went on, "Because your super ninja senses allow you to spot dirt before it's even there?"

The tip of her nose touched his as she rose to her tiptoes. "Do you have a problem with the way I clean?"

"I'm just saying it's a little…"

"A little _what_?"

"Obsessive."

"Oh?" He knew that fact that he continued to smile as she maintained her position directly in his face had to be making her crazy. "And what about your obsessions?" He bit his tongue as she grabbed his hand and guided it to… "Hmmmm?"

They were interrupted by an uncomfortable McGee. "So, are we leaving now?"

Ziva stepped away without further comment and approached McGee and the kid. "We are ready. Harry, do you want to ride with me?"

Tony remained in the exact position where she left him, hand still contoured to a curve that had walked across the office. He moved when she brushed past him. "Tease."

She winked. "You started it."

"Did not."

"You did."

"Where's Gibbs?" McGee interrupted, blessedly this time.

Ziva raised her eyes to MTAC, where he was visible briefly at the door before entering. "I believe he's recruiting more backup."

* * *

"I don't want to hear excuses, Agent Saunders. Just track him down."

"I'm not making excuses, Ma'am, I'm merely trying to explain why…"

"Why are you wasting time explaining anything when you could be interrogating Sahrawi?"

"Moussad is handling…"

"Is one of your team in there?"

"Of course, but…"

"Let me know when you have something concrete!" She signaled to the agent manning the console to cut the transmission and dropped into one of the chairs in the front row. MTAC was fast becoming both a sanctuary and a torture chamber. The thought of torture caused an involuntary shudder to spread through her body. Saunders hadn't deserved the rough treatment; one dangerous terrorist was in custody.

But the other had escaped. It was hard to enjoy her vengeance when it was only half complete.

No, Safad was an internationally wanted terrorist. She had perfectly legitimate reasons for wanting to detain him. Reasons that had nothing to do with Lavoie or…

"Ma'am, Agent Gibbs is trying to get into MTAC."

Jenny opened her eyes. Fantastic. "Let him in."

A few moments later, Gibbs sat in the seat beside her. "Things not going well?"

"Yes and no," she answered truthfully.

"Did I need to know that?"

"You asked. Is there something specific you're here for or did you just feel like a fishing trip?"

"I just thought you might want to get out of here for a few hours."

She considered for a moment. Whatever Gibbs was proposing, it would probably involve coffee. "To do what?"

"Stakeout. Maybe catch a Mobster."

"Where?"

"Tony and Ziva's place."

Jenny went rigid as she realized what was happening. "You're using the boy as bait?"

"He'll be safe, Jen. I think Bilotti is going to come after him tonight."

"You think he'll be safe because the man you think killed his parents will try to kill him? Tonight?" Was he making this up to get her to go with him? "On what, exactly, are you basing this?"

"My gut."

"Of course. Any real evidence?"

"We're on a schedule, here, Jen, and they all just left. Can I explain in the car?"

Against her better judgment, she stood. She couldn't take the risk that this was some bizarre joke. "You'd better."

* * *

Frank Bilotti sat in the driver's seat of his rented dark SUV, watching the gate of the Navy Yard with a set of high-powered binoculars. Without looking, he picked up a cup of coffee and took a sip. Cold. Were they planning to keep the damn kid at NCIS all night? His source had told him the kid was going to be spending the night with some fed named David, who just happened to live with another fed named DiNozzo.

He looked away from the gate for just a moment as he consulted some license photos. David was the one from the news report. And she and DiNozzo had been in the news months ago for that thing with the panda. Other than them, it was McGee and Gibbs. Four feds. With surprise on his side, he could take out two before they knew what hit them – assuming they even figured out he'd whacked the kid before they found him dead in the morning.

Frank turned his attention back to the gate as a set of headlights approached. White pickup. Not them. He was looking for a black 350Z or a green Mustang convertible. Or a blue Charger. Fucking typical fed car. He settled in with his cold coffee to wait until they showed up.

His patience paid off not long afterward, as the Z appeared at the gate. David was driving and, even better, the kid's head was just visible in the passenger seat. They were immediately followed by a Porsche, DiNozzo in the passenger seat and – he consulted his photos – McGee driving. How the hell were feds affording these cars? And they called he and his associates the criminals! He started his SUV, but waited until the two cars reached a light at the end of the street before following.

The route they took was circuitous, but they arrived at the address listed on David and DiNozzo's licenses. Fucking overconfident is what they were, Frank decided, driving slowly up the block to an empty parking spot about 100 yards beyond the building where he could see the windows of the apartment he'd found earlier that day. He dropped down in his seat, watching in his side mirror as the three feds and the kid went into the building. The lights in the right windows went on a few minutes later. Was it really gonna be this easy?

He slipped into the backseat, where the tinted windows would hide him from prying eyes while he waited. After about twenty minutes, someone he recognized showed up at the building in one of those blue Chargers. Gibbs. He and some redheaded woman walked in with a few pizza boxes. Frank checked his piece. Five feds was a lot. Nothing he couldn't handle, but…

He was still fiddling with the gun forty-five minutes later when something surprising happened. Gibbs and the redhead exited the building, got in their car and…left. Frank waited a few minutes and, sure enough, they were back, slowly circling the block. He remained where he was, keeping his head low, just in case. After the fourth time around, they didn't come back.

And then there were three. Frank grinned. Smug bastards. He was going to catch them sleeping. Literally. He settled into a comfortable position. Two hours after the lights went out or 2AM. Whichever came first.


	10. Chapter 10

"I won!"

"Nuh uh. My car passed the line first."

"They're both my cars."

"I know, but the one I had won."

"Did not. McGee?"

Ziva looked up from where she was loading the dishwasher as McGee said, "I think it was a tie. Why don't you race again?"

As she condensed the leftover pizza into one box, she watched Harry and Tony line up the small toy cars at the top of a makeshift ramp made of books and the coffee table. Tony's face was screwed up in a competitive scowl as they waited for McGee to give the signal. "Ready…set…go!"

The small cars picked up speed as they rolled down _The Giant Panda Today_, a new, very large coffee table book the National Zoo had sent her that included a still taken from the PandaCam the night one of the keepers had attempted to kill Tai Shan. Harry had peppered her with questions about her encounter with the small bear, and then about the elephant after Tony had shown him one of the many clips on she wished weren't available on YouTube. She hoped they'd finished with that topic as she found space in the refrigerator for the large pizza box.

A cheer and a groan told her that Harry was the uncontested victor of the tiny car race. He appeared to be through with the game as she returned to the living room, although Tony was trying to discourage him from disassembling the ramp in order to stage a rematch. As soon as Ziva sat on the couch, Harry joined her, toting the large book and his stuffed panda. "Can we look and see if Go Go Bear is in your Panda book?"

Tony dropped onto the couch on her other side. "Why would your toy be in that book?"

"Not _my_ Go Go Bear – the real one!"

"Riiiight. We'll just look for the picture of the table-dancing panda in funky boots."

Ziva ignored Tony's mutter, as Harry had not seemed to hear it. He was carefully turning the glossy pages, saying, "My mom used to take me to the zoo all the time when we lived in San Diego. That's where I got Go Go Bear and I named him after the panda there. They have pandas there, just like the zoo here. Is he in here?"

"I do not know." Not wanting to go through the entire book, she flipped to the index. There was nothing listed under 'Go Go,' but she did find a reference to 'Gao Gao.' She turned to the appropriate page. "There. Gao Gao, the male giant panda at the…"

"I can read it!" Harry interrupted. She followed along as he read aloud, helping him as he tripped over some of the longer words.

As he read the long caption that accompanied the photo, she noticed the volume of the television going up. By the time he finished, he was barely audible. She brought her lips close to Tony's ear. "Can you turn it down?"

He tried to casually toss the remote to McGee and announced, "I was just going to say the same thing to our hearing impaired colleague."

"Hey!" McGee, realizing he was holding the remote, dropped it on the floor.

"Tony, seriously," Ziva replied with an eye-roll added for good measure.

He picked up the remote and adjusted the volume to a more acceptable level. "Better?"

"Thank you."

Harry piped up, "Can we watch Spongebob?"

"Spongebob isn't on right now," Tony answered.

"It's 8:30, and Spongebob comes on at 8:30 on Nickelodeon." He crossed his arms. "My parents let me watch Spongebob before bedtime."

Realizing that it was probably getting late for a seven year old to be up, Ziva decided to go along with the plan. "All right. You can watch Sponge…Bob, and then at nine o'clock you'll have to go to bed."

Harry nodded enthusiastically, but Tony pouted, pointing at the basketball game. "But…Buckeyes!"

"Go watch it upstairs."

"On the little TV?"

She glanced at the screen. "There are only five minutes left in the game."

"Basketball minutes, Ziva! And the game is so close that they could take a half hour!" When she didn't relent, he turned to McGee. "Back me up here!"

"Frankly, I think I'd rather watch cartoons."

"Don't you have any…oh. Did MIT even have sports teams, or was it all chess clubs and math fiestas?" The barb went unacknowledged. Apparently seeing that he had more adults on his side, Harry reached over, took the remote from Tony's hand and found his show. Tony stood and went upstairs, grumbling, "Sure, make yourself at home, kid."

When the show was over, Harry seemed like he was having trouble staying awake. Ziva nudged him gently. "Time to get ready for bed."

"Okay." He yawned and trudged down the hall to the spare room where they had pulled out the sofa bed for him. They'd actually moved the sofa into the office from the small bedroom where they also kept the treadmill; Ziva had decided a room with no windows would be best, given the circumstances. Harry came out dressed in colorful pajamas a few minutes later, clutching a toothbrush. "Ziva, can I have some toothpaste? And a cup?"

"Sure." She thought for a moment. Toothpaste would be in the cabinet in the master bathroom. "I'll be right back." She jogged up the stairs.

Tony was watching television, sprawled on the bed with his feet on the pillows. "Can I come downstairs yet?"

"Not if you want to keep watching…" she glanced at the TV, "Michigan? You hate Michigan."

"Aw, you do pay attention when I talk about important stuff like college basketball." He raised his voice so she could hear him as she went into the bathroom. "Anyway, they're gettin' killed, which is almost as good as a Buckeyes' win. Which they did, by the way." A moment later, he appeared in the doorway to watch her search the cabinets. "Looking for something to medicate the kid?"

She closed the cabinet door and pulled out a drawer. "He is already tired. I don't think sedating him will be necessary."

"Oh. I thought he was sick today or something." He shrugged when she looked up in alarm. "Wasn't that why the grandmother said he stayed home from school?"

"I didn't even think to ask him. He has been eating all day and hasn't complained of any pain. He seemed all right, all things considered."

"Yeah, aside from…"

"I feel fine," Harry said, unexpectedly squeezing past Tony into the bathroom. "I had a tummyache this morning, but I felt better after I threw up. Why do you have two showers up here?"

"One is just a bathtub." She pushed the drawer back in and pulled out another, only to quickly close it due to some of the items it contained. _Not for children's eyes_, she thought, glancing at Tony, who was grinning at her discomfiture. Or maybe he was thinking about what was in the drawer. Either way, it was best to just check somewhere else for the… "Ah! Here it is."

Tony looked at the fresh tube of toothpaste she handed to Harry. "That's what you were looking for? There's a tube right on the counter."

"Just because I share your germs doesn't mean he has to."

"Are we having a little English fun, because I know you know the difference between the toothbrush and toothpaste – not that we're even talking about toothbrushes, so what are you even talking about?"

She gently guided Harry back toward the stairs. "I was just commenting on the fact that it is not necessary to jam the tube into the brush to get the toothpaste onto it."

She couldn't hear his reply, but the sound of him flopping back onto the bed was perfectly clear. McGee gave her an expectant look as she passed, though she couldn't imagine why. Following Harry to the door of the bathroom, she opened the medicine cabinet over the sink to retrieve the paper cups. She glanced around the small room to take a quick inventory. "Have everything you need?"

"Uh huh." He squeezed an excessive amount of blue toothpaste onto his toothbrush. "Can you get Go Go Bear? I think I left him on the sofa."

"I'll put him on your bed."

"Ziva?" He was holding the loaded toothbrush just in front of his mouth. "Will you read me a story?"

"I…" She had a sudden inspiration. "McGee is really the professional storyteller. Maybe I could convince him to tell you a real wizard story."

"Really?"

"I'll ask him right now."

"Thanks!"

She closed the bathroom door behind her as she returned to the living room. "McGee, I told Harry you'd tell him a wizard story."

He looked up in alarm. "What?"

"Don't tell me you can't make something up."

Tony's voice carried down from the loft, "Yeah, Mr. Big Shot author – tell him about some magical wizards named Tibbs, Tommy and Lisa maybe!"

McGee blushed, but avoided the topic of his McNovel. His _novel_, Ziva mentally corrected. "Does it have to be a wizard story?"

"Yes," she replied. "He was very excited about it."

"You did tell him no wizard stuff so Voldemort wouldn't be able to track us down," he protested weakly.

"That was just to stop him from asking us to perform spells. But if you'd prefer to demonstrate some magic for him…" He stood and tried one last pleading look. When she remained immovable, he walked down the hall, much in the same plodding manner Harry had done earlier. "McGee…" He turned quickly, just in time for Go Go Bear to hit him in the chest. "Take the bear."

"Right."

Ziva waited until Harry had pulled McGee into his room to hear his story before looking up. Tony was watching her over the railing. "What?"

"Nothin'" he sing-songed, moving toward the stairs. "I just think it's cute you let McGee play too. He was starting to get that Saint Bernard face. Hey, we should get one of those little barrels for him to wear around his neck."

"Brandy casks? What are you talking about?"

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled down into his lap on the couch. "The way you just made McGee feel like he was still one of the kid's favorites – that was nice."

"I still don't know…"

"Please. He likes you best. It's obvious."

She held his face between her palms and looked him in the eye. "You mean Harry? Since when are you so perceptive?" After a beat, she added, "Or…when are you so forthcoming about being perceptive? Because that I knew."

"I just wanted to remind you that I liked you first." He beamed. "You really think I'm perceptive?"

"To a point." She played with his hair as he kissed her neck. "Now tell me what you're up to."

"Oh, I'd say first base."

Her jaw dropped briefly as she felt her bra unclasp. "I told you, not tonight."

"But we haven't had sex since…"

"Last night?"

He chuckled. "Well…I'd say I was hoping you'd forgotten, but…"

"Yeah." She took some time to appreciate what a good kisser he was.

McGee interrupted them a few minutes later. "Um…Ziva?"

She pulled her shirt down as she slipped out of Tony's lap. "Is Harry asleep?"

"He, um, wants you to tuck him in."

"Okay." She grabbed a hoodie off the back of the couch and put it on, zipping it up. Not that she was worried about jiggling, but…she pushed Tony's hand off her waist. "Did he like your story?"

"Oh, yeah." McGee brightened. "I ended up telling him that fable about the three brothers from _Deathly Hallows_."

She nodded knowingly. "Beedle the Bard."

"Nerds," Tony scoffed. When she pinched his arm, he amended, "Sexy nerds. Well, you, not McGee. No offense."

"Um, none taken?" As she walked away, she heard him ask, "Why is there a bra on the sofa?"

"Ever see _Flashdance_, Probie?"

Harry was waiting for her, covers conspicuously disarrayed when she entered. "Did McGee tell you a wizard story?"

"Uh huh. He said it was a really old one that wizarding families tell." He yawned. "Wish I lived with wizards." Unsure of what to say, Ziva pulled the blankets up and patted the stuffed panda on the head silently. Harry eventually asked, "What will happen if You-Know-Who comes here tonight?"

"He won't," she stated confidently, "and you're very safe here. McGee is going to sleep on the couch. I'll be right upstairs and…"

"Where is Tony going to sleep?"

"Upstairs."

"Why can't I have the other bedroom upstairs?"

"Because there is only one bedroom upstairs."

"But there was only one…" He seemed to be on the verge of saying more when his eyes got wide. "Are you and Tony married?"

"Well…" she twisted her engagement ring around her finger self-consciously, "not yet."

Harry considered her with childish seriousness before apparently coming to a decision. "Don't worry. I won't tell my grandma."

"Okay." She waited for him to say something else, but he seemed very tired. "Well, goodnight."

"'Night, Ziva." She softly closed the door and returned to the living room.

By the time the late local news was over, McGee was showing signs that he was ready to go to sleep as well. Ziva grabbed a few blankets and a pillow for him before checking the locks on the door and following Tony upstairs. She noticed that he was careful to hold the toothpaste tube far over the brush when she walked into the bathroom to brush her own teeth and wash up. He frowned when she tossed him a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. "Really?"

She struck a compromise she knew he'd agree to. "If everything goes well tonight…tomorrow morning in the shower?"

A few minutes later when they had settled into bed, his hand slipped up her tank top. "Tony…"

"C'mon, just make a few happy noises to mess with McGee."

She pushed his hand away and pecked his lips. "Goodnight, Tony."

"G'night, babe." He reached over to turn off his bedside lamp, plunging the apartment into darkness. Ziva loosely gripped the gun under her pillow as she drifted off to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Gibbs tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, waiting and watching. It was just after midnight and he had already had plenty of time to regret asking Jen to join him on his stakeout. She had been seething the entire time, accusing him of fishing for information every time he asked if she was okay. It _was_ one of his goals in inviting her to join him, but he hadn't expected her to be in such a foul mood. Additionally, she was drinking all his coffee.

The smell of French Roast filled the car as she unscrewed the cap of his thermos yet again. He kept his eyes on his target, but the telltale sound of a decreasing trickle made him speak up, "Caffeine is a diuretic, you know."

She glowered at him, her reply dripping sarcasm, "I'll let you know if I need to slip into the shrubs for a minute. Thanks for your concern."

"Just mentioning." He kept his eyes on the door of the building, sometimes looking even further up the street to see if the man in the back of the SUV had emerged yet. He'd had Abby run the plates of every car parked on the block; that one had come back registered to a rental company, currently loaned to Transtech Enterprises, a Mafia front according to the FBI's files. His gut feeling when he'd seen movement in the back of it on their second and third circuits of the block would have been enough to tell him he was watching the right car. Without turning his attention away, he asked, "There any left?"

"Plenty." Jen reached behind her seat and pulled out an unfamiliar thermos.

"You didn't think I'd come prepared?"

"I didn't think you'd share."

He inhaled as she opened it – hazelnut? He grudgingly accepted the cup she poured him. "Sharing is the foundation of any good relationship."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He pretended that he hadn't been aiming for that particular nerve. "Read it on a Hallmark card." He took a sip of the coffee and made himself swallow. "Thanks."

"How much longer do you think this will take?"

"Eager to catch at least one bad guy today?"

She surprised him by answering coyly, "Who said we didn't catch someone?"

He pressed his advantage. "So I guess the question is how many got away?"

Her change in demeanor was immediate. "That's need to know."

"So at least one, then?"

"Stop it, Jethro. I'm only here because I thought I'd get a chance to speak with Ziva." The fact that whatever was occupying Jen in MTAC also had something to do with Ziva was nothing new. Gibbs sighed and took another sip of coffee as she said, "Thanks for sharing _that_ part of the plan with me ahead of time, by the way."

He smirked, giving himself a moment to appreciate the simplicity of his strategy. Bait and switch. Good thing DiNozzo and David weren't too concerned about the formalities. "You could've talked to her on the phone a little while ago."

"Unsecure line," she griped.

Feeling that Jen was still staring at him a few silent minutes later, he said, "Don't drink all the coffee yet. I think he'll wait a while yet. I doubt they turned out the lights long ago."

"We should have set up cameras. Or at least parked on the other side of the building where we could see the windows."

"Like Bilotti did?"

"You can't be certain that's him."

"Oh, he's over there."

"Let me guess – coincidences?" When he nodded, she continued, "Do you really think he's been sitting there for hours after following them here? Assuming he did follow them here?"

"Guard at the gate of the Navy Yard said a dark SUV had been in the lot up the street all afternoon. And the FBI file says he's patient."

"The coldblooded ones always are." Something in Jen's voice made him turn his attention away from the building for just a moment. She was staring out the passenger side window, stress evident even in her distorted reflection.

"Jen, if you'd just tell me what's going on, I could…"

"I have people on it. I just need to make some calls and speak with Ziva."

Gibbs turned back to the dark street. "Okay." The only thing moving was a tabby cat stalking through the bushes.

* * *

Frank checked his watch. 1:30. That'd have to do. The lights had gone off over ninety minutes ago, so they'd have to be asleep. Everything else about their security was pretty damn cavalier. No one even watching the place… Metro PD seemed to be making an appearance every half hour, but he couldn't be sure if this was something new or just a normal patrol route.

He would have liked a few days to scout the location, but time was a factor; he needed to get rid of the witness and get back to his real job before anyone noticed he was running an operation on the side. You could only make so many personal loans before this shit went down – then everyone always wanted a fucking cut.

He kept his head down as a patrol car made its way down the street. It continued at a snail's pace until it had just disappeared around the corner. Was that normal? Didn't matter. His target would be eliminated and he'd be long gone by the time they came around again.

He peered up at the windows of the apartment – still dark. Now was it, then. He performed one last check of his piece, securing the silencer and the magazine. His hand slipped into his pocket to feel for his lock-picking tools. All there. Good. He had the same feeling he always had before a job. Nearly quivering with anticipation, he opened the back door of his SUV and stepped out.

Just to be sure he'd gotten the right number, he paused at the intercom. 4F. DiNozzo/David. Her name looked like fresher ink than his. So the feds were allowing partners to hook up now? He'd have to pass along that little tidbit.

The front door of the building was exactly as he expected – almost like not even having a lock. Did they think they'd get a leg up on him when he tried to buzz in or something? Dumbasses. Frank had learned long ago not to overestimate the intelligence of the feds. They probably hadn't even found the shell casings he'd left in the front yard at the house where he'd shot the man and woman. Feds were so easy to tease, he wasn't even sure why he bothered.

He made his way through the lobby to the stairwell. He never trusted elevators. "Fourth fucking floor," he muttered, looking up the space between the stairwells – the one that daunted him when going up and reminded him exactly how far he could fall on the way down. This one didn't have enough room to allow him to jump for it, if it came to that. Which it wouldn't. He glanced at the fire exit connected to the alarm – that would have to be his escape plan. He could probably just get lost in the confusion. He could even yank it on the fourth floor. No, too obvious. He gripped his gun inside the pocket of his overcoat and made his way up.

The door was at the opposite end of the hall from the stairwell. He paused before passing the door of each apartment, listening for anything. A yappy dog and a late night infomercial were no cause for concern. He waited outside 4F for at least five minutes. Nothing. Smiling as he took out his tools, he quietly went to work on the bolt. In and out, one dead witness. Maybe he'd get lucky and none of them would even wake up. If that were the case, he'd do at least one of the feds too. Half the happy couple, he decided – that would be like two for one.

The door swung open without a creak.


	12. Chapter 12

If her Moussad file were to be believed, it took less than three seconds for Ziva to go from a deep sleep to a state of complete readiness. As a result, she was now sitting up in bed, SIG Sauer held firmly in her hands. She cocked her head as she listened, peering into the darkness – something was moving in the apartment. She was about to wake Tony when a shadow appeared at the top of the stairs and a small voice said, "Ziva?"

"Harry, what's wrong?" She turned on her bedside lamp and he walked slowly over to her. "Are you all right?"

"I had a nightmare."

"Oh…" She watched him for a moment, but he didn't say more. She prompted, "Do you want to tell me about it?" He nodded slowly, but said nothing. "Was it about your parents?"

He nodded again. "And You-Know-Who."

Suddenly, Tony rolled over with a grunt and threw an arm across Ziva's hips, pulling her against him; she shifted away from the indicator that he was having nothing but good dreams. She pushed him away and swung her legs over the side of the mattress as she sat up. "Why don't we go back downstairs?"

"Can I stay up here?"

"There isn't anywhere for you to sleep."

"Well…" He looked nervously toward the stairs. "Are you really sure that You-Know-Who can't get me here? Even if I dreamed about him? What if that was some kind of magic that put him in my dream and told him where I am?"

"Harry…" A buzzing on her nightstand interrupted her intended reassurances. As she checked to see who was calling, she realized that this could be the best reassurance of all. "One second." She flipped the phone open. "Gibbs?"

"We got Bilotti."

She smiled at Harry. "He was in the car you thought he was?"

"Yup. Mather and Beecher took him down right after he broke into your old apartment. Gonna take him back to NCIS and let him sweat it out in Interrogation overnight. Give Riley a call if you need anything – I'm leaving them outside your building for the rest of the night. And I want you all in at 0830 tomorrow."

"Gibbs, do you think you could tell Harry?"

"You can tell him when he gets up in the morning. Do you think he'll be able to identify the guy?"

"He did a good job describing him to the sketch artist. And he had a bad dream, so he is awake right now. Could you tell him?"

"Yeah, no problem." She could hear the smile in his voice over the line. "Put him on."

She held out the phone to Harry. "Agent Gibbs would like to talk with you." As the boy accepted the phone, she turned to Tony and poked him in the shoulder. "Hey."

"Uh."

"Tony, wake up."

His eyes cracked open. "Mmmm…midnight booty call? I think I can manage that." She didn't have to fight him off for long, as he almost immediately noticed they weren't alone. "Why's the kid here?"

"Gibbs just called to tell us they arrested Bilotti."

"Huh. And you wanted to go to the DMV to get our licenses changed after we moved." He pushed himself up and stretched his neck, looking at her askance. "So…that means we get to…"

"In the morning," she interrupted.

"'Kay." He gave a perfunctory glance to his lap, pulling more of their comforter over the space. "The team outside still gonna hang around?"

"As a precaution, I believe."

"Uh huh." She watched as he looked at Harry then back at her. "He gonna stand there all night?"

"What?" She turned and saw that Harry had finished with the phone and placed it on her nightstand. He was now watching Tony and her. "Do you want me to take you back to bed?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Agent Gibbs said that the magic you did at that first place we went tricked You-Know-Who and that's why he went there and didn't come here."

"Well…" she stood and led him back downstairs, "it worked because Tony and I used to live there."

"Why?"

"That was just where we lived before we moved here."

"I mean why did you have to live there before for the magic to work?"

"Oh, the…spell was… We should wake up McGee and tell him the good news," she finished, grateful for the excuse snoring in the living room.

Harry eagerly rushed past her at the foot of the stairs and jumped on McGee's sleeping form. "McGee! McGee! Wake up!"

"Whuh…is he here?" In his haste to ready himself for action, McGee nearly threw Harry to the floor. "What's going on?"

"Gibbs caught You-Know-Who!" Harry shouted. He suddenly jumped off the couch and turned to Ziva. "Can I have a glass of milk?"

"Um, yes. Sure." She glanced at McGee, rubbing his face and tucking his SIG back under the pillow. "I'll get that for you."

"And while I drink it you can tell me how Gibbs caught You-Know-Who! He must be a really great wizard!"

"Yeah, be sure to tell him that when you see him, kid." Tony dragged a hand across Ziva's back as he passed behind her and preceded her into the kitchen. "We got any cookies or anything?"

"The boxes you bought from those uniformed children are in the cabinet." She watched as he pulled open a door, revealing glasses and coffee mugs. "The other cabinet."

"I was getting a glass for milk first. Oh, and in case I didn't explain this clearly to you, the Girl Scouts are not a military organization for children that funds itself by forcing them to bake."

"Whatever. Could you grab another glass for Harry?"

"Can I have cookies too?" he called from the living room.

Tony tossed a green box over the counter that separated the two spaces. "Knock yourself out." In an undertone he added, "And if you wanna take it literally…"

"Tony…"

He turned and leaned against the refrigerator, preventing her from opening it. "If you're clear on the Girl Scouts, we can have a chat about the Salvation Army next."

A quick glance into the other room told her it was safe to press against him. "Move or _this_," she paused to give him a squeeze, "is all the action Little Tony is going to get for a week."

"You wouldn't…"

"Exactly. I wouldn't."

Not long afterwards, they joined Harry and McGee in the living room, Tony frowning into his glass of milk. McGee was trying to explain to the boy, who had a mouthful of chocolate cookies, the made-up magical method that had allowed them to escape. "…and when we met those two other agents in the back of the building, remember how we shook hands with them?"

"But I didn't shake hands with them," he protested, accepting his milk. "Thanks, Ziva. So why did the magic work if I didn't touch them?"

"Well, we're grownup wizards, so our powers would block you out. So after we left Tony and Ziva's old apartment and came here, Agent Gibbs and the other agents waited for Bil…for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to try and get into the apartment. And then they captured him."

"Did they send him to Azkaban?"

"Um, I think they just took him back to NCIS."

"Are _we_ going to NCIS in the morning?"

"That is where we work," Tony said, holding the box of cookies out to Ziva. "Want one? They're minty."

"No. Thanks." She noticed that Harry was looking far less excited than he had a moment before. "Harry, are you finished with your milk? Would you like more?"

"Can I stay here tomorrow? I could just watch TV and play with my toys. I wouldn't wreck your stuff or anything."

"Harry, you need to come to NCIS with us tomorrow."

He set his glass carefully on the table and walked over to her, reaching his arms up. After a moment of confusion, she lifted him into her lap. He wrapped his arms around her neck and whispered, "Will I have to see him?"

She considered Gibbs' inquiry about Harry's ability to identify Bilotti and said truthfully, "You will not have to be in the same room with him. And he will not even know you're there."

"How?"

"We have…a magic mirror. You can look through it and see him, but he won't be able to see you, just his own reflection."

"But what if he can see through?"

"He can't."

"But what if he _can_?"

"Gibbs will make sure he can't before we let you look through."

The idea that Gibbs would check things seemed to reassure him. "Okay." He yawned. "But what about…"

"How 'bout we end this cookie party and get back to sleep," Tony suggested. Ziva was about to compliment him for it until he added with a wink, "It's a, uh, big morning tomorrow."

McGee paled. "Please tell me you aren't…"

"Ssshhh. Kid's asleep."

Ziva looked down and saw that Harry was dozing with his head on her shoulder. She carefully stood and carried him to bed, tucking the covers in around him. When she turned to leave the room, she was startled to find Tony watching her from the door. "What?"

"Nothing." He waited until she'd quietly pulled the door closed to continue, "I was just thinking about something your dad brought up. Something about kids."

She walked quickly through the living room, saying goodnight to McGee again before rushing up the stairs. When she heard Tony enter the room, she whirled and hissed, "I'm not ready to talk about this."

"Okay." His eyes got wide and she could almost see the gears turning. "I just thought that since the kid seems to like you so much you might want to…"

"You thought a child who thinks he is a wizard would convince me that I wanted my own?"

"When you put it that way…I just…well, it came up months ago and we never really had a definitive conversation about it, and I thought that now was…uh…"

"What do you want me to say?"

"You don't have to say anything."

She sank onto the bed. "Tony, you brought it up. I think that means you are the one with something to say."

He sat beside her and rested his cheek against her shoulder. "I'm not good with that kid."

"Yes you are."

"He doesn't like me. And that got me thinking…thinking more, I mean. Because since your dad brought it up, I've thought about it. And before I thought maybe I could be a dad, but…" He paused as he gently kissed her neck. "I don't want to disappoint anyone."

"Tony, our child will be very lucky to have you as a father." The terror on his face told her she'd closed the door on the topic for the moment. "Why don't we discuss it again in a year or two?"

"Oh. Sure."

She kissed him before sliding up the bed and under the covers. "Coming?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry." He slipped his arms around her after joining her. "Two years, huh?"

"We can keep practicing in the meantime." His embrace tightened. "In the morning."

As she fell asleep, she realized that he hadn't let go.


	13. Chapter 13

**M rated content** warning for this chapter only.

* * *

Tony opened his eyes and found that it was almost morning. He'd had trouble sleeping, tossing and turning as he thought about what Ziva had said just before they'd gone back to bed. As he lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling and listening to her snore, his brain took him straight back to those somewhat unwelcome thoughts.

Kids. While she hadn't come right out and said they were definitely going to have them, she'd made it pretty clear that it was part of her long-term plan. Or…she'd just said they would talk about it in a year or two. Talking wasn't the same as deciding, though? Right?

The statement that had been running through his head all night came to the forefront of his mind again: _Our child will be very lucky to have you as a father.__Our child_. So…child. That meant one. He could possibly in all likelihood with the proper preparation and warning manage one little baby that had the advantage of DiNozzo genes. And, as a father, he'd have the authority to banish all things Harry Potter from the house, at the very least. But a baby wouldn't care about books. Or did you have to read to babies? Probably not Harry Potter, but there were baby books, though, right? Right?

Wanting some reassurance, he turned his head to look at Ziva, but her back was to him as she spooned with… "Hey!" he murmured. He tried to yank his pillow out of her arms, but that just caused her to clutch it tighter. "C'mon. Gimme."

She made a soft noise and rolled so she was now lying on her stomach, almost on top of the pillow. After a final tug, he gave up. Not wanting to return to his thoughts about – oh, not thinking about it! – he peeked under the covers and immediately noted that Ziva's pajama pants had slipped down. He gave the waistband a test push and found that they seemed like they would come off quite easily. After a few minutes of careful work, he pulled them off her ankles and tossed them on the floor. From under the covers, he heard her sigh in her sleep, but she didn't wake.

Chuckling to himself, Tony slowly dragged his fingertips up the length of her legs. When he reached the hem of her tank top, he began working it toward her head. Just as he was trying to overcome the problem of getting it over her arms, she rolled onto her back and said, "Wasn't I wearing pants?"

He remained hidden, hands frozen on her chest. "Uh…no?"

"Seeing how far you could get before I smacked you?"

He grinned as he looked up at her. She was bathed in a soft reddish light under the tent she'd created under the sheets. "Just thought you'd want to be ready when you woke up. We did have some plans."

"And you wanted to make sure I was as ready as you are?"

"What can I say? I'm always happy to see you." He pressed his hips tightly against her body as he tried to remove her tank top once again.

She resisted, snapping the waistband of his pajamas. "Should I congratulate you for leaving someone's pants on?"

He shifted so that he was on fully on top of her. "I'm not wearing a shirt. I thought it was only fair that you get half-naked too. And then totally naked. I think that's something we can all enjoy."

"Including McGee?"

He knew she was most likely referring to the potential noise level, but replied, "We are_not_ inviting him up."

"Ooooh. And here I thought all men wanted to try a ménage à trois."

"Yeah, with another chick." Before she could respond negatively, he added, with liberal kisses interspersed between the words, "But that's… kinda silly, because I…am completely…satisfied…with you."

"Doesn't feel like you're satisfied." He willingly flopped onto his back as she pushed him off her and changed their positions. "Yet."

"Oh, babe," he gasped as she ground her hips into him and finally removed her tank top, "that is what I'm talkin' bout."

Instead of helping him take off his pants, however, she made him regret leaving them on as she straddled his chest. "Well…" The heels of her hands pushed his shoulders into the mattress. "Shall we warn McGee now, or just surprise him?"

"Stop bringing Probie up." Tony twisted his body and escaped from between her thighs. A brief, passionate wrestling match ensued, in which he managed to get his pants off, only to be frustrated by the fact that they were now almost inextricably tangled in the covers with too many layers of material between them. "Ziva?"

"Just give me a moment…" He felt the blanket underneath him pull free just as he realized he was at the edge of the bed. Grimacing as he hit the floor with a thud, the air was pushed out of his lungs as Ziva landed on top of him, still wrapped in the sheet. She responded to his wheezing with annoyance. "You're fine. I simply miscalculated."

"Uh huh. Deadly, deadly knife throwing is a snap compared to getting out of bed."

She silenced him with a long, deep kiss. "I'm not going to be quiet. Let's take this into the bathroom."

The heat of her skin tantalized him in odd spots the sheets were allowing contact. "All the way to the bathroom?"

She stood and dropped the sheet. "You can put me on the counter and watch in the mirror."

He chased her as she jogged toward the bathroom door. "Why is this the first time we thought of the mirror?"

* * *

McGee relaxed his death grip on his blankets when he heard a door slam upstairs. He'd woken to the noise of moaning and grunting that could only mean one thing. When something had hit the floor hard a few minutes earlier he'd been left to wonder about things he really, really…_really_ didn't want to know about. Didn't they have any sense of decorum?

His musing was interrupted when running feet skidded to a halt at the back of the sofa. "McGee! McGee, are you awake?"

"Good morning, Harry."

"Is Ziva awake yet?"

McGee shuddered. "I would think so."

"Good! She said she'd make pancakes! I'm gonna go tell her I'm up!"

"No!" McGee was off the sofa and standing faster than he'd thought physically possible. There was no way of knowing what it looked like upstairs and poor Harry had been traumatized enough. "I mean…why don't you turn on the TV and I'll go see if they're ready for breakfast."

Harry pressed his lips together for a moment. "You have to talk about grown-up stuff, huh?"

"Well…" Adult situations were more like…McGee interrupted the thought before it could get more disturbing. "Yeah, we, um, have to talk about a couple things about work. It won't take long, okay?"

Harry had already placed himself in the middle of the sofa with the TV remote. "Okay."

"Right." McGee took a deep breath and ascended the stairs. He wasn't sure whether it was a good or bad thing that no one was in the disarrayed bed. The door he'd heard must have been the bathroom, then. He leaned toward it, holding his breath. The only thing he could make out was the noise of a hairdryer and maybe an electric razor. Okay. So they weren't in the shower together. They were probably just standing in front of the mirror, getting ready.

He knocked softly and pushed the door open when no reply came. "Are you guys…" he trailed off as he saw that he should never have thought it was safe. He froze with his hand on the knob, unable to move for a full five seconds.

Standing by the counter, Tony looked over his shoulder, prevented from turning all the way around by Ziva's legs, which were wrapped around his waist. "Tim, you mind?"

"Sorry!" He yanked the door shut, but the image of Tony and Ziva remained burned on his retinas. He made his way back to the living room, skipping every other step on the way down. He didn't even give Harry a chance to ask a question before saying, "Um. They're in the bathroom…showering and, um, brushing teeth and…that kind of stuff. They won't be done for a while."

He flopped onto the couch beside the boy and tried to lose himself in the cartoon Harry was watching. He'd thought he'd finally calmed down by the time Tony made his way downstairs. "Hey, kid. I thought you watched Spongebob last night."

"It's on again." Harry didn't turn his attention away from the TV.

He hesitated before moving on to the kitchen, calling behind him, "Coffee, Probie?"

"Um…sure." McGee kept his eyes on the screen for entirely different reasons.

"Ziva'll be down in a couple minutes. I think she said something about waffles."

Harry wandered into the kitchen and watched attentively as Tony poured water into the coffeemaker. "Yesterday she said she'd make pancakes."

"Well, you can ask her about it now."

McGee continued watching Spongebob as Harry ran across the room to meet Ziva at the foot of the stairs with a hug. "Tony said you're gonna make waffles and not pancakes."

"I can still make pancakes if you would like that better."

"Can you make blueberry pancakes?"

"Tony, do we have any blueberries?"

"Uh…"

As Tony stuck his head into the refrigerator, McGee thought he caught a cold look from Ziva, but she moved into the kitchen too quickly for him to be sure. What was her problem? She was the one who…behind a closed door in her own apartment, sure, but…they really could have locked the door. He stared at the rug, feeling her eyes on the back of his head every so often. She eventually said, "Good morning, McGee."

"Um, yeah. You too, I mean."

Tony finally emerged from the refrigerator. "We've got every kind of berry but blue, although I think the blackberries are kind of a purplish-blue. Do they count?" Harry made a face. "Not my fault, kid. I know we have chocolate chips. Would you eat chocolate chip pancakes?"

His eyes got wide as he turned back to Ziva. "You can make those? Wow! My mom never let me have anything chocolate at breakfast, not even cereal."

"No Cocoa Puffs? Cocoa Krispies? Chocolaty Pebbles? Count Chocula?"

McGee checked his watch as Ziva tried to get Tony to stop reciting his list of cereals. He couldn't wait to get to work where they would behave marginally better.


	14. Chapter 14

Gibbs impatiently checked his watch as he stood in Observation, keeping an eye on Frank Bilotti from behind the mirror

Gibbs impatiently checked his watch as he stood in Observation, keeping an eye on Frank Bilotti from behind the mirror. Bilotti had either been dozing or doing a hell of a good job feigning sleep with his head on the table in Interrogation, where Gibbs had tossed him on arrival at NCIS hours ago. It was true that the guilty ones could always fall asleep.

He allowed himself a soft grunt of laughter as he remembered the look on Bilotti's face when they'd led him out of Palmer's apartment in handcuffs. The guy didn't even know he hadn't come close to the kid, continuing to cast confused looks at Agents Mather and Beecher, who had been waiting to take him down the moment he picked the lock. Gibbs continued to smile, even as he caught sight of his own pleased reflection in the glass. It had almost been disappointing how perfectly the simple ruse had worked; the waiting had built up a tension that went unfulfilled. At least their easy arrest had stopped Jen's complaining. He wasn't even sure if she'd gone home or retreated to her office to wait for Ziva to come in.

Pulling his gaze away from the sleeping man, he checked his watch again. 8:15 AM. Someone ought to be in the bullpen by now. He'd told them to come in by 8:30 and that meant they'd probably already been here for fifteen minutes. He turned and said to the tech in the room, "I'll be back in a few minutes. Keep an eye on Sleeping Beauty."

"Yes, sir."

When he arrived in the squad room, only Ziva was seated at her desk. "Good morning, Gibbs."

"Morning. Where's everyone?"

She continued whatever she was doing on the computer as she said, "Harry is in the bathroom and Tony and McGee are not here yet."

"Not…_here_?" he asked incredulously.

"They should be here soon," she amended quickly. She looked up but quickly looked away. "Since McGee and I left our cars at the old apartment when we slipped out the back, Tony figured out some plan to get things reorganized. I came here in the company car with Harry, but he decided that he would drive McGee over to pick his up this morning, then we'll get mine on the way home and…"

"Ziva," he cut her off, feeling a sudden need for coffee, "relax. How's the kid?"

She furrowed her brow before delivering the analysis, "He is in good spirits."

Gibbs paused on his way toward the elevator. "That a problem?"

"I just find it odd. It's almost like he doesn't realize his parents have died. I know Ducky said that he's repressing the event as a coping mechanism, but…"

"Yeah. It's weird. But at least everything went okay at your place last night." A few more wrinkles appeared as her forehead contracted further. He sighed, knowing he was going to have to wait a little longer for his coffee. "You told me everything went okay, Ziva."

"No, it is not anything to do with Harry." She folded her hands tightly on her blotter. "Gibbs, may I ask you a personal question?"

He paused to think about it before deciding more information was necessary. "About?"

"Your daughter."

"Look, don't make judgments about your qualifications as a parent after spending one night babysitting a kid who thinks he's a magician."

"Wizard."

"Whatever. When it happens, _if_ it happens…" He waved his hand to try and wrap up the pride, love, fear… He found he couldn't sum up the experience of being a parent in words he wanted to say aloud and finished, "You'll be fine."

"That is good to know," she said, beginning to look nervous, "however, I was going to ask if you were frightened of becoming a father?"

He restrained an urge to smack her head. "You've been out enough. I'm not signing off on any maternity leave. Your ass is staying parked at that desk until your water breaks."

"Gibbs, I'm not pregnant. Ow!"

"Good." He pulled his hand back over the partition. "I'm goin' for coffee." He strode to the elevator and stabbed the button with his index finger. As he was waiting for it to arrive, he decided that he should probably answer the question he'd been asked. "Ziva?"

She stood to look at him. "Yes?"

"Like I said, you'll be fine."

"And Tony?"

"I think he'll surprise you."

"How'd you know I stopped and got coffee for everyone?" Tony asked, unexpectedly stepping out of the elevator that had just opened. "There's the big one for you, boss."

Gibbs accepted the cup before asking, "What'd you do?" He interrupted before Tony could get started, "Never mind. Where's McGee?"

"Driving Miss Daisy? I don't know why he bothered with a Porsche if he was just gonna go speed limit all the time." He pulled another cup from the tray and handed it to Ziva. "He should be here…hey, there's the Speed Probster." He held a cup out to McGee as he entered the bullpen. "Think you can handle the rush you might get from the caffeine?"

McGee scowled. "You ran that red light."

"Learn to drag race. You gotta ride the clutch off the line and…oh, wait. You drive an automatic. At least you got to enjoy my Mustang's taillights."

"How did you have time to stop for coffee and still get here before me?"

"Shortcut, grasshopper."

"You two finished?" Gibbs interjected just as Harry came around the corner. "Hey, Harry. You have a good night?"

"Gibbs!" The boy ran up and stopped just short of hugging him. "Ziva told me you used your powers to capture You-Know-Who! Can you tell me which spells you used? I bet they were ones only a really powerful wizard like you could do."

Gibbs looked around for some help, having exhausted all he could have said on the topic on the phone with the boy the previous night, but McGee and Tony were stashing their gear and Ziva was insistently looking away while rubbing the back of her head. He opted for a change of topic. "Did you meet Abby yesterday?"

"Who's Abby? Is she a witch?"

"Oh, you have no idea, kid." Tony held out a bottle. "Here, I got you a juice."

"Thank you." Harry turned back to Gibbs. "Can I meet Abby? Will she be allowed to show me any magic?"

Ziva rescued him from further annoyance by jumping in, "Remember that we told you we don't use magic here?"

"Because of the Muggles, I know." Harry hung his head.

McGee knelt beside him. "Trust me, magic is probably the least interesting thing you'll think about when you meet Abby."

"Take him down and then meet these two in Observation," Gibbs said, scooping up a handful of files off his desk and not waiting to make sure Tony and Ziva were following him as he stalked toward the elevator. As expected, they squeezed through the doors just before they could close. He flicked the emergency stop almost immediately. "Did you ask the kid if he'd take a look at Bilotti?"

Ziva nodded. "I told him about the one-way mirror…"

"You mean _magic_ mirror," Tony interrupted.

She gave a sigh of exasperation. "Yes, fine. He seemed to be reassured by it, but we can call up the video in Abby's lab if he is too frightened to come into Observation, yes?"

"Good."

A few minutes later, Gibbs set his coffee down before slapping his files against the table. "Wake up."

Bilotti slowly raised his head and yawned. "Where's _my_ coffee, Agent…?"

"Gibbs," he provided, taking a long sip from his coffee cup. He decided to start small. "It's against the law to break into private residences."

"Yeah, and do I feel stupid about that." He grinned like a buffoon. "See, it's just a simple misunderstandin'. I was visitin' a buddy of mine and lost the key he gave me. I didn't want to wake him, so I decided to let myself in. Imagine my surprise when you people took me down."

"That the best you can do?"

"Best I can do is the truth, sir, on my sainted mother's grave, God rest her soul." He was gazing upward with one hand over his heart.

Gibbs took another long sip of coffee as he consulted one of the files in front of him. "Your mother is still alive, Frank. Do you want to try again?"

His prayerful pretense dropped as his voice became hard. "Y'know, I think I'd rather make my phone call. And I ain't sayin' anything else about this alleged break-in 'til I talk to my lawyer."

"Well, if he charges by the hour, I'm sure your lawyer will be happy to visit you at Gitmo."

"Tryin' to scare me, Agent Gibbs? Last time I checked, they weren't sendin' any old criminals up there."

"Down there," Gibbs corrected. Sensing this wouldn't take much longer, he pushed a photo of Nelson in dress whites across the table. "Lt. Gregory Nelson worked at the Pentagon. Obviously I can't discuss what he did, but let's just say that we take acts of domestic terrorism like assassinations very seriously."

"Hey, I ain't ever seen this guy before. Look, I…I admit it, okay? I fucked up last night. I broke into a place in a pretty nice neighborhood thinkin' I might get a nice haul. There, you got your confession. Breakin' and enterin', what's that, a fine?"

"Five to thirty. I'd be more concerned about the murder if I were you, though."

Bilotti quickly regained his air of false bravado. "If you had shit on me you wouldn't be wastin' time with this B&E crap." He laughed. "I didn't kill those people."

He raised his eyebrows. "I didn't mention anyone but Lt. Nelson."

"Yeah, that's what I mean. I didn't kill him."

"Cut the crap, Frank. Yesterday morning you murdered Gregory and Joanne Nelson with the gun we found on you last night when you tried to finish the job by killing their son."

"No! I bought that piece off some guy in the street in the afternoon!"

Gibbs ignored the outburst, continuing, "You're going down for this. We've got the weapon. We've your DNA off casings at the murder scene. Our forensic scientist thinks you kissed them before you tried to hide them in the grass. What do they call that in high school English? Hubris?"

"Shut the fuck up! You got nothin' on me and you can fuckin' shut up until I get my lawyer in here, you fuckin' fed."

Gibbs leaned back and softly rapped on the mirror. They had enough physical evidence for a conviction and a pretty good guess on the motive that they'd have time to look into. "Have it your way, Frank."

They had been sitting in cold silence for at least five minutes when the mirror began to rattle violently.


	15. Chapter 15

McGee shouted to be heard over the loud music in the lab, "Abby! Abby, where are you?"

"McGee," she yelled from somewhere in the back room, "get on your hands and knees and help me find this thing!"

"Um…find what thing?"

He felt Harry convulsively squeeze his hand. "Is she a good witch?"

"Yeah, she's just…" He led the boy toward the back of the lab, where they had a view of Abby sprawled on the floor as she stretched her arm, reaching under her desk. Maybe explanations should come in a different order. "Um, Abby?"

"Stop asking silly questions and help me find…oh!" She popped up as she turned and saw Harry standing partially shielded behind McGee. "Hi! I'm Abby. You must be Harry." She extended her hand, which he shyly accepted. "Nice to meet you." When he just nodded, she looked up at McGee. "So is this the grand tour and meet and greet?" She lowered her voice to a hissing whisper, "I'd keep him out of Autopsy, if you know what I mean. Oh, what am I saying? _You_ don't even go in there when you can avoid it!"

He ignored the jibe. "But this is…what were you looking for?"

"Oh, it'll be there when I find it. In the mean time…" She jammed a pen into a hole on her stereo and twisted it, turning down the volume. "What can I do for you?"

"Would you mind keeping an eye on Harry while we're, um, busy?"

"Sure, we can hang out for a little bit!"

"Okay, thanks." He patted the top of Harry's head, as the boy still seemed skeptical. "Either Ziva or I will come get you once we're done."

Abby took his hand and led him toward her computer. "You won't even realize they're gone! Well…not gone because they'll be somewhere in the building, but we're gonna have fun while they work." McGee smiled at Harry a final time. As he was leaving the lab, he heard Abby say, "I wish we could use magic, because I would love to _Accio_ the volume knob for my stereo."

Tony and Ziva were arguing when he entered Observation a few minutes later. "If you like them so much, _you_ wear them."

"You're not getting this. I don't like them for me; I like them on you."

"You can't see them during the day."

"I can imagine them under your clothes."

"Then just do that."

"It won't be real!"

"Tony, I'm not switching to G-strings so you can fantasize all day."

McGee cleared his throat, realizing that he should have interrupted the conversation much sooner. Why did they always end up like this when left alone together? He suddenly realized it could have been worse, remembering what he'd heard and seen earlier that morning. "Um, what's Bilotti saying?"

"Nothing worthwhile."

McGee resisted the urge to ask Tony how he'd even know what was happening on the other side of the glass and asked, "And what's Gibbs doing?"

"Oh, baiting him, threatening him with Gitmo, denying him right to counsel. Y'know, the usual."

They quieted and listened to Bilotti speak for a moment before Ziva said, "This does not make sense."

"Maybe it would if you'd paid attention from the beginning instead of talking about your underwear," McGee muttered under his breath before he could stop himself.

"We already know he did it." Ziva glared him into submission and continued, "I meant that I don't understand Bilotti's motive. If Lt. Nelson borrowed a loan from him, why would he kill Nelson before he paid it back? Then he risks a murder conviction in addition to not having the money."

"Which he could use to pay his lawyer," Tony quipped.

She rolled her eyes. "Something does not fit. We know that Nelson went to Connecticut a few times a month, occasionally bringing his son. While he was there, he appeared to be babysitting his niece while his brother worked at a bar in the casino. When did he have time to lose this alleged fifty thousand dollars?"

McGee crossed his arms over his chest. "Harry said he didn't go with his dad all the time. He could have gone to the casino anytime Harry wasn't with him."

"And we don't know that he actually lost fifty grand," Tony added. "That was just the number he wanted to borrow from grandpa. He could have lost a lot less and got behind on the interest."

Ziva considered him seriously. "How much interest do land sharks charge?"

Tony grinned. "They're criminals. They can charge whatever they want. Maybe they knock off a few percentage points if you send them a candygram."

"What is a candygram?"

Trying to save the trouble of further explanations, McGee quickly corrected Ziva, "You meant loan shark."

She winked at him behind Tony's back as he went on, "Oh! Or…how 'bout this. We still don't know where the brother is, right? Maybe Nelson didn't borrow the money from Bilotti, but needed it to bribe him?"

"Bribe him for what?" McGee asked.

"Well, what if the Nelson boys were running a little side business of their own out of the bar in the casino and got tangled up with the Mob? Bilotti whacks the lieutenant to get rid of the competition when they can't pay him not to, brother disappears to save himself. Now that would save us the trouble of figuring out why Bilotti didn't just break Nelson's legs!"

Their theorizing was cut short when Gibbs suddenly rapped the glass for no apparent reason, but Ziva responded immediately. "I will get Harry."

McGee stopped trying to process the idea Tony had been putting forward. "To do what?"

Tony answered, as she had already left, "To get the kid. Gibbs wants him to ID Bilotti. Campfire over."

"Oh." They didn't continue the conversation about motive, instead watching Bilotti in Interrogation. He looked really pissed off. McGee was glad the plan had worked and they hadn't been forced to deal with him at Tony and Ziva's actual apartment. Thinking about the night sent McGee's mind right back to the most uncomfortable place he could imagine. Or remember, rather.

He glanced furtively to his side a few times before Tony demanded, "What?"

"What?" he parroted back.

"Stop looking at me funny. And besides, I asked you what first."

McGee swallowed, knowing that he needed to ask his question or it would eat at him. "This morning, in the bathroom…"

"You mean when you walked in on me and Ziva?" A wide smile spread across Tony's face. "Do you want the clinical explanation or the one with the dirty words?"

"Look, you were having sex. I know that. I just wanted to know…what the hell were you doing before that when you were making all that noise?"

Tony eyed him incredulously before answering, "It's called foreplay, Mc…I can't even think of an appropriately demeaning nickname for you right now. Y'know, I'd be willing to set you up with a few women if you're looking to gain some experience with…"

"No!" McGee cut him off, now regretting having broached the topic. "I can manage without your rejects, thanks. I just thought you were a little loud, that's all."

He chuckled. "You should hear her when I…"

McGee was spared further unwanted mental images when Ziva interrupted, "When you _what_, Tony?"

He was unfazed. "What, you just assume that I'm talking about you?"

She gave no indication of hearing him, as she had stepped back into the hallway. McGee could hear Harry's voice. "And you're sure he won't see me?"

"He won't see anything in this room."

McGee moved to the side of the window as Ziva led Harry into Observation. He was clutching her hand in both of his. He seemed afraid but determined as he slowly approached the glass. McGee realized he was holding his breath as Harry silently stared at Bilotti, eyes wide. Time dragged on as his hands rested lightly on the frame along the wall, just below the level of his chin.

Ziva lightly touched his shoulder. "Harry, is that…"

She didn't finish her question as he let out an unearthly wail and began to pound the one-way mirror with his small fists. "You hurt my mommy and daddy! You hurt them! You…"

Ziva gently pulled his arms back to prevent him from pounding on the glass any more. "Harry, it's all right. We won't let him hurt you. He is going to go to prison and…"

He violently struggled from her grasp and ran toward the door. "I don't want you! I want my mom and dad! I want my grandma! I want my Uncle Glen! _I want my family_!"

To McGee's surprise, Ziva stood back, looking shocked. It was Tony who bent down and wrapped the boy in a confining bear hug. Harry went limp as he started to sob. Tony picked him up and moved toward the door. "C'mon, kid. Let's go call your grandparents. I'm sure they're looking forward to hearing from you this morning."


	16. Chapter 16

Tony propped his legs on the corner of Ziva's desk as he tilted his chair back in the aisle. She looked at his feet distastefully and pulled her phone closer to her as she dialed again. A solid half-hour of leaving messages on Harry's grandparents' answering machine had put her in a foul mood. No one was listening to his very intelligent suggestion that they'd gotten stuck in traffic on their way to NCIS and, being old, didn't have cell phones to check in and make sure Harry was eagerly awaiting their arrival.

Come to think of it, Tony had no idea what was up with the kid. He'd gone into hiding the moment they'd returned to the squad room and not even unhealthy snacks were drawing him out. Tony tried to crane his neck to see if there was any movement in the area behind his desk, but…nothing. There was a soft crackly crunching sound, but it could have just been his imagination.

He clicked his tongue to the beat of a Sinatra song in his head as Ziva's expression lit up in the moment before she realized she was getting the machine again. He rolled his eyes and softly began to sing along with the tune in his head, staring over his shoulder at the rain coming down hard outside, "That's why the lady is a tramp…"

"Excuse me?"

"Huh?" He turned his head and saw that she was glaring at him. "What?"

"What did you just say?"

"Nothing." He twitched backward as she stood and leaned over her desk. "I guess I was wrong in thinking you appreciated my singing voice."

"I do not appreciate being insulted."

"I wasn't…"

She cut him off, "Then why did you select that particular song?"

"I heard it in the car this morning!" he protested. "Just because you can't get in touch with the kid's grandparents is no reason to…"

"Oh, now I'm a tramp _and_ I'm inept?"

"I didn't say…"

"Knock it off, you two!" Gibbs interrupted, shoving Tony's feet off Ziva's desk. "What happened down there?"

Tony felt Ziva glaring at him for a moment before she answered, "Harry became very upset when he saw Bilotti. I believe that we have the positive ID we needed."

"Good." Gibbs quickly surveyed the bullpen. "Where is he?"

"Hiding in my chair hole, eating my chips. Or my chocolate. Or…" Tony grimaced as Gibbs slapped him. "What was that for, boss?"

"For giving him junk food this early in the morning. You get in touch with the grandparents?"

"Not yet." Ziva gave him another undeserved glare. "Tony believes they have been stuck in traffic."

"Hey, there's always traffic jams caused by accidents in weather like this. Hydroplaning." Tony made a smooth gesture with his hand to illustrate the concept. "I'm sure they'll come waltzing off the elevator any minute now."

"We'll be a little more proactive in finding them if they aren't here by the time I get back."

"Boss, I got you a coffee this morning!" Tony protested as Gibbs stepped into the elevator. He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard Gibbs mutter something derogatory about breakfast blends before the doors closed. "Proactive? Where'd Gibbs pick up a word like that? Think he stayed awake during one of those boring as an opera seminars?" When Ziva didn't answer, he shrugged and propped his feet back on her desk, drawing another glare. "What's up with you?"

She responded by silently sitting down, picking up the phone and dialing again.

He grinned in spite of the situation, feeling a slight rush of superiority. He whispered, "Are you jealous because I was able to tame the raging beast?" Although he wasn't going to admit it, he'd been pleased when the kid had decided that he was a good shoulder to cry on – at least he had been until he'd noticed the wet marks on his shirt. Still, it made him feel a little better watching Ziva stand by, unsure of what to do, after hours of the exact opposite. Point for DiNozzo. He decided to remain humble in victory. "All I really did was tackle him before he could go rampaging through the halls. He was the one who opted to turn on the waterworks."

"Not everything is about you." His grin faded as he realized her glare-fest wasn't over. "I'm frustrated because Harry has asked for one thing from us and we cannot seem to do it."

"Oh. So why am I getting all the angry staring action?"

"Because you can handle it." She dropped the receiver after presumably getting the machine again. "Didn't you notice that McGee has been gone for the past twenty minutes?"

"I figured he was confusing your mute rage with a smoldering sex-glare and wanted to escape before I swept everything off your desk and…"

"Tony! Stop it!"

He linked his hands behind his head and leaned back even further in his chair. "C'mon, Gibbs is gonna be another few minutes at least."

"And there's a seven year old under your desk, in case you have forgotten," she hissed.

"Right." The small bubble of confidence that had been building in regard to his childcare competency potential popped. Whatever. The kid was still a delusional adolescent suffering from a lack of DiNozzo chromosomes. This wasn't a fair assessment of his parenting skills at all. Wait, parenting what now? He dropped his feet to the floor and leaned over Ziva's desk as he asked, "Hey, when you said two years, you meant discussing it and not actually doing it? Right?"

"Stop driving yourself crazy with this. I'm not ready to have a baby yet and that's all you really need to worry about. In fact, why don't we make a deal? The next time you bring it up, I will perform an at-home vasectomy, thus relieving you of all anxiety."

He froze, but not before clamping his hands firmly over his lap. "I just want to know."

"So do I, but I don't yet," she replied softly. She leaned over her desk and kissed his forehead. "Let it run its course before you drive us both insane." He smiled and pecked her lips, feeling better for no particular reason.

"Cut that out," Gibbs ordered, coming into the bullpen with his fresh cup of coffee.

"Sorry, boss. We were just making up for that fight you yelled at us for having earlier."

"Can you possibly do something useful like…where's McGee?"

"He went down to the lab. Had some idea about the case that went, 'Yadda yadda yadda computers. Blah blah Abby's help.' The usual thing he does where we just nod and let him show up with…whatever he's got in his hand right now!" Tony finished, seeing McGee walking toward them. "What kind of case-breaking magic did you bring us, Great Wizard Probamel?"

"I don't know, since we already have the guy in custody, but I was thinking about something you said in Observation."

Tony nodded sagely. "Conflict between rival loan sharking businesses."

"I don't know about that, but Lt. Nelson had three life insurance policies."

"Quiet, McGee. Kid's under the desk," Gibbs whispered gruffly.

"Still?" McGee moved closer to Gibbs' desk, prompting Tony and Ziva to do the same as he continued softly, "Two name his wife and son as the beneficiaries; those are worth almost half a million together. The third is for fifty thousand and names his brother."

Tony scratched his head. "That's a lot of life insurance for a young guy. Seems a little suspicious."

"He is on active duty. Perhaps he thought it prudent."

Tony chose not to reply to Ziva's comment, instead listening as McGee went on, "And that's not all. His will also leaves everything to the wife and Harry, with a trust being set up in the event that anything happened to her."

"Who's the trustee?" Tony asked.

"The grandparents."

"Whoa. Glen Nelson disappeared last night. You think he was on his way down here to try and collect on those policies to try and pay off Bilotti? He'd have no way of knowing we'd caught him, right?"

Gibbs looked over at Tony's desk before glancing at Ziva. "You ever get in touch with them?"

"No."

"Right. Got the address?" She nodded and Gibbs continued, "You two with me. McGee stay here with Harry and keep working on the financial angle. Anything you can find to tie Bilotti to the brother or this loan sharking thing."

Tony rushed over to his desk to collect his gear, peeking under it where Harry was still sitting, surrounded by toys from his overnight bag, food wrappers and his stuffed panda. "You okay, kid?"

He wiped his nose on his sleeve and sniffled. "Can I see my grandma and grandpa yet?"

"Uh, we're on our way to pick them up and bring them here now. So…really soon, okay?"

He nodded. "Can I have a drink?"

"Sure." Tony looked up and saw that Gibbs and Ziva were already stepping into the elevator. As he ran to catch up, he shouted over his shoulder, "McGee! Kid wants a drink!"

This was fine. McGee could try his hand at this parenting thing for a while. He'd had enough to last him…until whenever Ziva said. It was a partial load off his mind now that she'd assumed responsibility for the decision-making. He stood close to her at the back of the elevator, pulling her into a brief one-armed hug. She tilted her head, kissing him where her lips first made contact on his cheek.

Gibbs didn't even turn around as he said, "Don't make me say it a third time."

Tony obediently took a step away, but Ziva grabbed his hand and held it. He smiled.


	17. Chapter 17

McGee tapped his fingers against his desk as he waited for the data he'd just retrieved to be displayed on his computer screen. He sighed when he read it. Nothing out of the ordinary. Again. If the Nelson brothers were running an illegal loan sharking operation, they were doing a fantastic job of covering their tracks. He tried to think of what he could be missing, but came up empty.

He leaned back in his seat to the point where he could just see Harry's leg and arm sticking out from beneath Tony's desk. He hadn't done much since quietly thanking McGee for the juice he'd delivered over half and hour ago. It was like a switch had flipped in Harry's head the moment he saw Bilotti and he lost all the confidence and cheeriness he'd displayed before that point.

McGee was on the verge of trying to talk to Harry again when Ducky stopped in front of his desk. "Good morning, Timothy."

"Morning, Ducky. Did you find something new on the…" he stopped himself, not knowing if Harry would know what an autopsy was. Or if he'd know they were talking about his parents. McGee swallowed and finally said, "Anything new?"

"No, I'm afraid I've learned all I can from my guests. I've actually come to see how our young wizard is faring."

"Um, well…"

"I know you're talking about me," Harry said, cutting McGee off, "and I'm not a wizard. And neither are you. None of you are wizards because wizards aren't real."

Ducky pointed toward Tony's desk and McGee confirmed Harry's location with a nod. He knelt, using the desk to support himself. "Are you angry with us for misrepresenting ourselves to you, Harry?"

McGee rose from his chair and moved closer to hear his response, "What does misrepresenting mean?"

"Well…it means that we weren't entirely truthful with you, I'm afraid. We believed that we could best help you at that time by…hmm."

"I'm not mad everybody lied. I lied first. I didn't mean to, I don't think."

"Oh, not at all." Ducky pulled Tony's chair over and slowly pushed himself up to sit in it. "You saw something that was, dare I say, very scary. It was only natural that you wouldn't want to think about it immediately."

Harry's head came into view from under the desk. "So no one's mad that I lied?"

"If you can forgive us for lying, I don't see why we can't do the same."

"Um. Gibbs did catch the bad guy. And Ziva, Tony and McGee made sure I was safe. I guess that's all okay." He disappeared under the desk. "But I yelled and got mad this morning. Am I in trouble for that?"

"Timothy?" Ducky inquired, suddenly turning to face him. "Do you think anyone will be angry with Harry?"

"Of course not!" He knelt and leaned so he could see Harry under the desk. "We just want you to be all right. Have you been hiding under there because you thought we were mad at you?"

Harry looked at him like he had three heads. "No. I was mad when I saw the man who hurt my mom and dad and now…" he paused as he sniffled, "now I'm sad because I'm never gonna see them again." He pulled his knees up and buried his face in them. "I didn't want you to think I'm not brave."

Ducky rested a hand on his back. "All things considered, I think you've been very brave."

"But I hid in the closet when that man hurt my mom." McGee shuddered when Harry said it, remembering the odd feeling he'd gotten in the bedroom at the crime scene the day before. Harry went on, "And I hid in my tree house when the police came to help." He looked up, tears staining his face. "Now I'm hiding because I don't want you to see me crying."

"It's all right to cry, dear boy." Ducky gently rubbed his back.

"But I didn't help my mom! I hid in the closet when that man came in!"

"Harry, it's not your fault." McGee inched closer. "Did your mom tell you to go into the closet?"

"Y-yes."

"And she did that to keep you safe. You did what she wanted."

"But…but I want to see my mom and dad."

Harry suddenly sprang out from under the desk and into McGee, who was unsure of what to do for a moment. Ducky prompted him with a hugging motion. "Hey, it's okay. You're going to see your grandparents soon."

* * *

Ziva kept her eyes on the road as the car took a corner slightly faster than she would have liked. Gibbs had decided to avoid all major roads on the trip from the Navy Yard to Harry's grandparents' home in Vienna, which had been a problem when it came time to cross the Potomac. The half-hour stuck in traffic had made him eager to make up time by disregarding all posted signs and signals. Her fingers were beginning to get sore from constantly gripping the door.

Apparently unconcerned about their recurring near-brushes with death, Tony continued playing with her hair from the backseat. He was pulling a few strands at a time out of her loose ponytail for reasons she didn't care to understand; he was probably just trying to provoke a reaction because…he did that.

He got his wish when another abrupt turn resulted in a sharp pain on her scalp. "Stop it, Tony!"

"Sorry!"

"Why are you pulling my hair, anyway?"

"I was bored."

"Couldn't you have just taken a nap or something?"

"You didn't even know I was doing anything until Gibbs finally decided to respect the merging traffic."

She shot a glance at Gibbs, who was focused on driving, before lowering her voice to reply, "I could feel you. I just chose to ignore you in the naïve hope that you would lose interest and stop."

"That ever work on him?" Gibbs asked before Tony could reply to her loaded comment.

She managed to brace her arms against the dashboard just before Gibbs hit the brakes at a crowded red light. She felt Tony collide with the back of her seat. "Oomph." He remained where he was, leaning over her shoulder into the front of the car as he asked, "Boss, did you just sort of ask us a question about our sex life?"

He shrugged, but Ziva was sure she could see a twinkle in his eye; it may have just been because the light had turned green. "I thought we were talking about David's hair."

She awkwardly pushed Tony back into his seat before he could get himself into trouble. "Put your seatbelt on."

"It _is_ on! Gibbs is just, uh, such a good driver that the seatbelts trust him to do the right thing and don't bother doing their job when he's driving?"

Gibbs didn't bother to reply, taking the breakdown lane to pass several cars that weren't going fast enough. After a few minutes of silence, during which Ziva felt an occasional fingertip running down the back of her neck, Gibbs asked, "Where did we get the idea that Nelson needed fifty thousand?"

"Didn't Grandpa Burt tell you that when you talked with him?" Tony replied.

"Yup. Maybe he'll be able to explain a little more about that."

"Gut talking to you, boss?"

An unfamiliar female voice caused Ziva to tense as it interrupted the conversation, "You have arrived."

Ziva glanced around, noting that they had clearly not arrived. "I hate this GPS system. Sorry, Gibbs."

"What's the address?"

"104 Pleasant Street."

"Sounds nice," Tony said, again touching her neck.

Gibbs hit the brakes and switched the car into reverse. "There it is." He pulled the wheel around almost before they'd backed up enough to make the turn. A minute later, they parked behind a red SUV on the street. "Connecticut plates. Who do we know from Connecticut?"

Ziva walked up to the SUV as Tony said, "I'll call McGee and find out what Glen Nelson drives."

"No need." She pointed to a sticker on the front windshield. "Foxwoods employee parking permit."

"That doesn't mean…"

"His name and picture are on it."

"Oh. Well then." Tony snapped his phone shut and fell into step with her as they followed Gibbs toward the front door. "I guess this makes a pretty interesting development, brother disappears only to visit the grandparents?"

The loud crack of a gunshot followed by a scream prompted them to sprint the last few steps up to the door. "Not as interesting as this one," Gibbs said before banging his fist against the door. "NCIS!" When no one answered, he tried the knob. The door swung open without a sound. He took a step forward, whispering, "David, around back."

She nodded and took off around the house.


	18. Chapter 18

Tony drew his weapon and followed Gibbs into the house, losing sight of Ziva as she jogged around the corner. He briefly considered suggesting they run back to the car and grab some vests, but as they advanced through the front hallway, he heard a woman crying and…begging? Gibbs pointed to an opening to the left and nodded before rushing through, shouting, "NCIS! Federal agents!"

Tony was on his heels as he entered the living room. Across the room, Glen Nelson was pointing a gun in the air, Burt Avery was cowering at his knees with his head covered, and Marion Avery was sitting on the couch. She turned as they burst into the room. "Agent Gibbs! Oh, thank God you're here! He came in and started shouting at Burt and threatening us with a gun and he put a hole in my ceiling!"

Still holding the gun, Nelson raised his hands and turned to face Gibbs and Tony. "I didn't mean to fire. It went off by accident."

"Fine. You're Glen Nelson?" Gibbs asked, jerking his head slightly. Tony slowly circled around to his left, keeping a close eye on Nelson, who nodded in reply. Gibbs continued, "Now why don't you put the gun on the floor and kick it over to us."

"Not until this piece of scum confesses!" Nelson said, kicking the old man at his feet. "He as good as killed my brother! And Joanne too!"

"No!" Avery protested. "He's the one! He's the one you should arrest!"

"He came into our home and shot my ceiling!" Marion Avery added.

"Everybody shut up!" Gibbs shouted. "The first thing that's gonna happen is you're gonna pass me that gun, Nelson."

"I want him to tell you what he did!" Nelson pointed an accusatory finger at Avery.

"You're the one who instigated it, Glen!" Avery retorted angrily.

Nelson hung his head. "That's not true."

"You can come down to NCIS and explain it to us," Gibbs said, "but you need to give me that gun first."

"Right. Sure." He slowly brought the weapon down. In his peripheral vision, Tony could see Ziva moving through the kitchen. Nelson apparently caught the same movement, turning quickly to see what it was. As he swung his arm around, his gun went off. Tony clearly saw that he'd simply put another hole in the ceiling, but the general direction of the gun's muzzle had set him running. He crashed into Nelson, shoving him against the wall and causing him to drop his weapon. "I'm sorry! It was an accident! I thought it was him!"

Tony twisted Nelson's arms behind his body and cuffed him. "Him who?"

"Frankie! The guy Burt got to kill my brother and his wife!" Nelson fought Tony's grip, trying to get to Avery. "How could you do that to your own daughter, you bastard?"

"I didn't do a thing, you damn liar!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Gibbs stepped in between the two men. "You're both coming down to NCIS while we get this straightened out."

"I'll go anywhere if it means getting justice for my brother."

"Yeah, well, shooting at my partner probably isn't the best way to get us on your side," Tony said, giving Nelson a push toward the door as Ziva approached. "You okay?"

She nodded. "You are lucky your aim is poor, Mr. Nelson."

Avery spoke with a horrible chill in his voice. "Mine's not."

In the flurry of activity that followed, Tony wasn't entirely sure what happened. All he knew was that by the time Gibbs announced he'd wrestled the gun away from Avery, a shot had been fired and he, Tony, was lying on top of Ziva. He remained where he was for a moment, making sure it was safe. Nelson was on the floor to his left, exerting himself as he tried to get up from a supine position while handcuffed; he was like a turtle on its back. Gibbs was busy handcuffing Burt Avery. Marion Avery stood in the center of the room, face uplifted. She suddenly shouted frantically, "Stop putting holes in my ceiling!"

Tony smiled and looked at Ziva. "You're not hurt?"

"No. You?"

"I'm fine." He hesitated for a moment before rolling off her and standing.

She accepted the hand he offered, bumping into him as she popped to her feet. "That was almost as exciting as the drive over here."

Gibbs glared at them for a moment, but Tony couldn't decide if it was about the position they'd been in a moment before or the situation in general. He finally pointed to Nelson, still trying to get up. "Take him outside and get McGee out here with another car."

They both hauled Glen Nelson to his feet. Tony asked, "You all right, Nelson?" He muttered something in response as they guided him out the front door. "Speak up, I didn't hear that."

"I said, how can I be okay when I'm responsible for my brother's death?"

"Inside you accused Burt Avery of being responsible," Ziva stated.

"Yeah, that's true, but Burt never would have met Frankie if I hadn't introduced them. So it's partly my fault."

"Now, when you say 'Frankie,' are you talking about…" Tony caught himself before revealing too much. "Who are you talking about?"

"Frank Bilotti. He's a loan shark that works out of my bar at Foxwoods. Burt borrowed…"

"Hold that thought, there, Glen," Tony interrupted as a blaring siren preceded the arrival one of the ugliest local PD cruisers he'd ever seen. Two officers, one looking like a high school freshman and the other a walrus, got out of the car and approached them.

Ziva smirked and released her hold on Nelson's arm. "Shall I handle this?"

Tony noted that both the freshman and the walrus were looking at her in a way he didn't like. "Why don't you call McGee? I can handle this." He began walking Nelson toward their car, in the opposite direction of the locals.

The walrus cut him off just as he was about to put Nelson in the backseat. "Going somewhere, son?"

"Just back to DC." Tony grinned and pushed his coat back to make sure his badge was displayed. "There a problem, officer?"

He adjusted his belt under his overhanging stomach and stroked his moustache. "Had a report of shots fired. Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Yeah, NCIS." At the walrus' beady-eyed blank stare, Tony continued, "Federal agents, just doing our jobs. Watch your head," he added to Nelson as he put him in the car.

"I see, I see." The walrus smiled, displaying a disappointing lack of tusks. "And is it your policy to shoot up suburban neighborhoods?"

"We didn't do any of the shooting."

"Course you didn't, son. Now let me tell you what you are doing for this NCSI you mentioned."

"NCIS," Ziva corrected, joining Tony by the car. "Naval Criminal Investigative Services."

"Mm hmm. And is that fella in the Navy?"

"He is a person of interest in an ongoing investigation."

"I'm sure he is, little lady, but this is our jurisdiction and we've got some questions."

Tony met Ziva's eyes and smiled to try to diffuse her anger over the walrus' manner of address. She gave him a cynical smile in response, meaning that she was about to say or do something the walrus would really dislike. Tony debated stopping her, but was rescued from making the decision as Gibbs walked outside with Burt Avery. "Call McGee back and tell him we're bringing these two in ourselves."

"Now wait just a minute here…"

Gibbs ignored the walrus, who was now waddling in his direction with the silent freshman on his tail flukes, saying over his shoulder, "You're welcome to follow us to NCIS to see your grandson, Mrs. Avery."

Tony missed whatever happened between Gibbs and the local cops when Ziva kissed his cheek unexpectedly. "What was that for? Not that I'm complaining."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Protecting me in there."

He grinned. "Hey, when I see my opportunity to jump on top of you…" he didn't finish his thought as Gibbs dismissed the walrus and continued on to the car.

"DiNozzo, in back between these two."

"Right, boss." Tony climbed into the car, deciding that he was being punished for his reaction to the third hole in Marion Avery's ceiling. Still, it had been a nice feeling, rescuing Ziva from…a dusting of plaster. Whatever. She'd understood what he'd been going for. It would give him something pleasant to think about on the drive back to DC.

Well, that and the puffed up, red face of the walrus as Gibbs peeled out without ever acknowledging him to his satisfaction.


	19. Chapter 19

The brakes screeched as Gibbs brought the car to an abrupt stop in the NCIS parking lot. The rapid drive from Vienna had been silent after Ziva had taken the initiative to order Glen Nelson and Burt Avery to stop arguing and attempting to get at each other at the risk of her removing multiple vital organs. Even Tony had been quiet after that, although his displeasure at being stuck between the two men had been evident every time Gibbs had glanced in the rearview.

He didn't hesitate the moment the car's forward progress ceased, yanking the parking brake, ripping the keys from the ignition, and slamming the driver's side door as he got out of the car. He took a few wide strides toward the building, but stopped short and turned on his heel, waiting for Tony and Ziva to collect the two handcuffed men. His eyes met Avery's for a moment before he addressed his agents, first Ziva, who was loosely holding Nelson's elbow, "He goes to interrogation." She nodded and led Nelson away at a brisk clip. The finger he pointed at Avery was more accusation than indication. "Put him in a conference room with someone watching him."

"Agent Gibbs…" Avery began.

He took a few steps forward, the anger that had been building during the drive leaking into his carefully measured words, "You had your chance. You better pray he's about to tell me some lies."

Gibbs jerked his head and Tony gave Avery a slight push forward. As they walked away, Tony's voice carried back to him as he spoke to Avery, "Don't push your luck. That doesn't mean he's on your side."

Gibbs waited until they had disappeared into the building before giving the car tire a hard kick. They'd spent too much time on the gambling angle with Lt. Nelson, ignoring the fact that the only evidence supporting it came from Burt Avery's testimony. Why had he bitten on the veteran Marine story? NCIS arrested Marines guilty of everything from petty theft to murder every damn week. Gibbs kicked the tire again, harder this time, rather than punching himself in the gut that had let him down. Good thing there was plenty of time to make up for it.

He stalked up to the bullpen, not stopping until he was leaning over McGee's desk. "Where's the kid?"

McGee leaned back, wide-eyed. "He went to the bathroom. He's had a lot of juice and…"

Gibbs cut him off, "You find anything off in either Nelson brothers' financial records?"

"Nothing that would indicate they've even been cheating on their taxes."

He let out a short breath through his nose. "I want everything you can find on Burt Avery's finances. And gambling habits. Nelson said that Avery met Bilotti in his bar at Foxwoods. Get me that security footage."

"Um, will they give that up without a warrant?"

"Tell them we won't mention the fact that they're letting the Mafia operate out of their casino to the FBI."

"Right. But…"

"Can you just do it, McGee?"

"I was just going to ask if we had a specific date. They might be more receptive if I don't ask for all their footage."

He twitched as Gibbs reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. His call connected before the second ring. "Yes?"

"Ziva, you with Nelson in Interrogation?"

"Of course."

"Ask him when Avery met Bilotti, as specifically as he can remember." He wrote down the information she relayed on the handiest sheet of paper on McGee's desk. "Good. I'll meet you in Observation in a minute. And tell DiNozzo to get down there." He snapped his phone shut before she could reply and turned back to McGee. "Get this as fast as you can. Let Tony or Ziva know when you've got something."

"On it, boss."

"And the grandmother is on her way. Keep her in here with the kid in your sight at all times."

"You think she's involved too?"

"I don't know. Just keep him…"

"Hi, Gibbs."

He turned to Harry, who was just walking around the corner. "Hello, Harry. You doin' all right?"

"Uh huh." He nodded solemnly. "Is my grandma and grandpa coming?"

"Your grandma should be here pretty soon." He patted Harry on the head and walked away. There was no point in scaring the kid with half-explanations.

He walked into Observation a few moments later, where Tony and Ziva were watching Nelson through the mirror. "Think we'll get to take a trip to the casino to confirm his story? Maybe have to spend the night on an NCIS tab? Room service? Sneak in a little blackjack?"

"Wouldn't bet on it, DiNozzo." Gibbs smacked Tony, but it didn't make him feel any better about the situation. "Interrupt me if McGee calls with anything."

"Gibbs?"

He paused in the doorway at Ziva's appeal. "What?"

"The file?"

"Thanks." He accepted the folder from her and walked into Interrogation.

Nelson began speaking immediately. "Listen, you have to make sure that you keep Harry safe, because the guy that Burt's mixed up with is dangerous. He murdered my brother and Joanne and I don't have any doubt he'd…"

Gibbs kept his eyes on the file in front of him. The final page consisted of some hastily scribbled notes that explained what Ziva had been writing during the ride back to NCIS. "We arrested Frank Bilotti last night."

"Good. That guy scares me."

He glanced at Ziva's notes and quietly stated, "But you admitted that you let him run a loan sharking business out of your bar."

"Hey, that's not up to me. Casino management turns a blind eye to the Mob to avoid trouble. As long as keep it on the down low and don't attract the attention of the cops, they get free rein. And he's a big tipper."

"I don't care what the casino policy is. I want to know what _you_ did. Why the hell would Burt Avery want his daughter and son-in-law dead?"

Nelson rubbed his hands over his face vigorously. "I don't think he was trying to get Joanne Killed. Just Greg. That doesn't make him any less guilty, but…"

"Don't tell me what you think. Tell me what you know."

"Right. Right. Okay." He took a deep breath. "Burt's at Foxwoods almost every Saturday. He comes for the poker room. Sometimes he does all right, mostly he doesn't. His problem is that he doesn't know when he's lost enough. I see it all the time at the bar, guys either celebrating a big win or trying to forget they just lost their life savings.

"Anyway, Burt would come in every time he was there because I'd comp him a drink. He took whatever we had in the well, so no skin off my nose, and on the nights he did good, he'd give me a nice tip. Didn't happen often, but he was still sort of family and…hey, one drink.

"So, two Saturdays ago, he comes in really upset. Said he lost five grand downstairs and tried to make it up at blackjack. Stupid shit lost another seven grand. He's sitting at the bar freaking out about the twelve grand he can't afford. They're gonna take his car to cover it. And I know it's a bad idea, but I ask him if he's got that kind of cash anywhere. He tells me he's got twenty something in mutual funds, but won't be able to get it 'til he can talk to his broker during the week. He was desperate. I woulda given it to him myself, but I got a kid and…I only knew one person who could.

"Yeah. So I tell him to wait around for a while and, sure enough, Frankie shows up. I introduce them and they're getting along. Frankie's buying rounds, real top-shelf stuff and Burt's acting like it's the biggest favor anyone's ever gonna do for him, taking Frankie's twelve now and giving him double the next week.

"So almost the whole week goes by and everything's cool, but then on Friday afternoon I get a call from my brother. He says Burt came to him looking to borrow twenty-five grand. I guess Joanne went over to confront daddy and he admitted to taking a bad loan from 'Glen's buddy' Frankie. So Greg's pissed, but I explained to him that Burt told me had had the cash available or I wouldn'ta done it. And he's still pissed, but he believes me because I think he knew Burt had a poker jones. He even jokes about how he couldn't get that kinda cash unless he fakes his death and collects the insurance or something." Nelson paused and rubbed his eyes. "I can't believe he really said that. You think he made that same stupid joke in front of Burt?"

"I don't know." Gibbs finished writing the detail about the insurance before looking up. "Do you have more?"

"Yeah! Right, so I talk to Greg on Friday and now I'm getting wound up for whatever's gonna happen on Saturday, with Burt and Frankie. Frankie gets to the bar first, which is weird, because I'm already thinking Burt's late, but Frankie doesn't realize that. So he's having a good time, having a few drinks because he thinks he's got easy money coming to him. Anyway, Burt finally shows up, grabs Frankie and drags him over to a table in the corner. And I can see that Frankie is getting pissed, so I figure Burt doesn't have the money and he's gonna get his kneecaps busted in the parking lot or something.

"Then, all of a sudden, everything's cool again. Frankie's ordering more drinks and they're getting along, but Burt is looking…well, now I know why he wasn't looking too happy. Later on that night I heard Frankie saying he was gonna make an easy hundred fifty. I didn't make the connection to Burt and what Greg said about insurance until…until I found out he was dead. Oh, God. This is my fault, isn't it? Isn't it?"

A knock on the mirror restrained Gibbs' first impulse to answer. He stood and left the room without a word. Tony and Ziva were waiting for him in the hall. She said, "McGee says he has something."

"That was quick."

They all turned when an unexpected voice carried down the hall, "I gave their director of security my personal guarantee that they wouldn't be held responsible or even mentioned in any report." Jen stopped when she was still a few steps away from them. "He seemed more concerned with keeping the casino's name out of it than anything else."

"I appreciate the assistance, Director."

"I need to borrow Officer David for a few minutes, if you can spare her, Jethro."

He frowned, but nodded, saying to Ziva, "We'll be down here if we're not in the squad room. In a few minutes," he added with an accusatory look at Jen, but she was already headed in the opposite direction.

Tony looked after the departing women curiously for a moment before turning to Gibbs. "Super spy mission?"

"Yup." He led the way back to the squad room, waiting until they were in the stairwell to say, "Jen seemed angry about something when we were waiting on Bilotti last night. Ziva mention anything?"

"I don't think she's talked to Jenny in a while. And I'm still not going to…"

"I know," Gibbs interrupted. "Just keep your ears open."

"Hey, I happen to be a fantastic listener." At Gibbs' questioning glare, Tony added, "I think there'd be some serious consequences if I didn't listen to Ziva."

Gibbs felt the corner of his mouth curl up in a half-smile, which was wiped away as the squad room came into view. He was too angry to smile right now.

* * *

Ziva hurried to catch Jen, who was walking very fast. She wondered if Jen actually wanted to talk to her as she barely squeezed into the elevator with the doors closing. "What's going on?"

Jen stared straight ahead. "Don't speak until we get to my office."

She was tempted to hit the emergency stop, but decided that a simple nod would suffice. She again trailed as Jen walked purposefully off the elevator, down the hall and into her office. She didn't reply to Cynthia's greeting as she passed through the anteroom, but Ziva said, "Hello, Cynthia."

"Good morning, Off…Ziva."

Once Ziva had pulled the door closed behind herself, she remained close to it, waiting for Jen to make the first move. She didn't take long. "Do you know what this is about?"

"I can guess. I know the operation to capture Safad and Sahrawi has taken place." She waited for some hint from Jen before asking, "Was it successful?"

"Half-successful." She pressed a button and brought a video up on her plasma screen.

"I see Sahrawi has been apprehended."

"Like I said, half-successful." She snapped her wrist at the screen as she stopped the footage with her remote; it flew out of her hand and hit the wall.

Ziva slowly walked around the conference table and picked it up, along with the batteries that had been knocked free with the impact. She placed it on the table and sat in the closest chair. "Has he talked?"

"He's only been in custody for around twelve hours."

"At least two more days, then," Ziva supplied. She knew two of the Moussad operatives involved in the mission. Talented. They'd get him to talk sooner rather than later. None of it explained why Jen was being so secretive and tense. "Did you invite me up just to keep me abreast of the new developments?"

"Pack a bag and be ready to leave at 0600 tomorrow. I'll pick you up at home."

Controlling her surprise, Ziva swallowed hard and asked, "Where is he being held?"

"I'll tell you where we're going once we're in the air."

"Do you think it is a good idea for you to confront him yourself?"

"I need this."

Ziva nodded and moved toward the door. Before she opened it, she turned. "What can I tell Tony?"

"That you'll see him in a week. And that you love him."

Understanding Jen's meaning a little too clearly, she took a few steps forward. "Even when Sahrawi talks, he will not be able to tell you where Safad has gone because Safad will find a new hideaway."

"Maybe. That's why I'm saying a week. Any operations that occur beyond that will be accomplished with us stateside."

Ziva stared directly into Jen's eyes. "Just because you are the Director, do not think I will not knock you unconscious again if I have to."

Jen didn't blink as she stared back. "I'm actually counting on that."

"Good." She chanced a smile.

Jen returned it, grabbing a bottle from a nearby shelf. "Drink?"

"It isn't even noon yet."

Jen looked at her significantly. "It's after three in Marrakech."

"Then perhaps we will have that drink tomorrow."

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, Ziva."


	20. Chapter 20

Tony plopped into his chair with a sigh of relief as Marion Avery followed Harry, Agent Lee and some woman from social services into a conference room. If more sparks flew, at least they'd be contained in there. "I know who we're calling the next time we've got angry old people to deal with. Who knew Lee had the magic touch?"

"Um, Palmer?" Tony gave a bark of laughter, prompting McGee to blush. "I should have thought before making that joke."

"No, Probie. It was a good one. Too literal maybe, but funny. I think you may finally be growing up."

"Yeah, well…we should really look for Bilotti and Avery in this video if we don't want Gibbs to…"

"Gibbs is busy taking his anger out on Bilotti in his teeny tiny holding cell – probably convincing him to rat out Avery. I think the screeching grandma put him over the edge." Tony crashed into McGee as he pushed his chair back to a position in front of the plasma without getting up. "Man, he is _pissed_."

"Bilotti?"

"Gibbs. He thinks his gut radar should have nailed Avery when they talked yesterday." He tipped over McGee's nearly empty trashcan to use as a footstool. "What's holding up the movie?"

McGee frowned at his overturned receptacle, but said nothing. "The casino security people emailed us footage from both nights Glen Nelson mentioned, but I don't think they…no, look at the time code. We're gonna have to fast-forward. A lot."

"Yuh huh." Tony glanced away from the speeding casino security footage McGee was falling all over himself to organize as movement on the stairs caught his attention. He met Ziva's eyes for a moment before she turned down the final flight. Did she always…? No, she had to be throwing a little extra sway into her hips because she knew he was watching. "Mmmm."

"Did you see something?"

He tore his gaze away from Ziva, whose walk was now too far down the stairs to be appreciated properly, and looked blankly at McGee. "What?"

"Sorry, I thought you said something."

"Have we found anything to corroborate Glen Nelson's story yet?" Ziva asked as she walked into the bullpen, swaying bounce eliminated. "Where is Gibbs?"

"Probably releasing the hounds to track _you_ down. You been with Jen all this time?"

"I was on my way back down half an hour ago when she dragged me into MTAC to…"

He was surprised when she trailed off to lean over and embrace him from behind. He reached up to weave his fingers into her hair as she rested her chin on his shoulder. She didn't actually know that Gibbs wasn't just in the bathroom or something, so for her to be so demonstrative in the office… Tony whispered, "What's wrong?"

Her lips brushed the angle of his jaw. "I'll tell you later."

The threat of months of waiting crept into his thoughts. "When you say later…"

"I mean as soon as we find out if Nelson was telling us…"

"There!" He looked up to see that McGee was nearly pressed against the screen, pointing excitedly. "There's Nelson talking to Avery." He sped the footage forward until a third recognizable face appeared. "And there's Bilotti. Looks like they talked for a while."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony brushed him off, trying to meet Ziva's eyes but finding it impossible in their current position. "Please, just tell me now." She released her hold on him and walked away. He followed her back to her desk. "Ziva…"

"Jen and I are leaving for a week." She broke eye contact the moment the words were out of her mouth.

He fought to maintain control. "When?"

"Tomorrow."

"What are you…"

"That's all I can tell you, Tony. I'm sorry."

"Do you guys want to take an elevator break and I'll keep going through this footage?" McGee asked loudly.

Tony grabbed Ziva's hand and began to drag her away. "Thanks, Tim."

She resisted. "I believe he was being sarcastic."

"No. I won't let you just brush me off right now. We are going into that elevator and we are not coming out until…" He was cut off by a slap to the back of his head.

Gibbs brushed past him. "Don't stop on my account, DiNozzo."

"Boss, I…" Tony stopped attempting to defend himself as he realized his best ally had just shown up. He didn't let go of Ziva's hand, dragging her in the opposite direction from the elevator now. "Tell him."

"Tony…"

"Ziva and Jenny are leaving tomorrow for a week," he tattled.

Gibbs sipped from his coffee. "I know."

"You…know?" Tony took an involuntary staggering step backwards. "Boss?"

"Jen called me a minute ago."

"You seem awfully calm about it."

He looked up, eyes flashing. "Did we confirm Nelson's story with the video?"

"The evidence seems to corroborate what he said it would," McGee said, stepping between Tony and Ziva as he approached Gibbs' desk.

"Good. Bring Avery and that footage down to Interrogation."

"Right, boss." McGee scrambled to grab the necessary gear.

"Bilotti ratted?" Tony asked, still standing in front of Gibbs' desk, gripping Ziva's hand as if she would run the moment he let go.

Gibbs didn't answer the question, instead standing and looking at him critically. "If you behave for the rest of the day, you can leave at five. Now get down to Observation."

When they were alone in the elevator in a few moments later, Tony took a deep breath and turned to Ziva, whose hand he was still clutching. "So what are you and Jenny planning? Assassination? Spying?"

To his amazement, she hit the emergency stop and answered, "Interrogation."

"Who?"

"A terrorist."

"And no one else can do it?"

"Dmitri was planning to sell me to two men. One has been captured and may have information about the other."

Tony nodded. "You're going because you're mad at this guy."

"Not exactly. He is a dangerous terrorist and should be apprehended, but I would be satisfied with allowing Moussad to complete the mission. Jen, however, feels she has a personal stake in the matter." Before he could ask for clarification, she added, "I believe she needs to be protected."

"From the guy you're interrogating? That doesn't…"

"From herself," Ziva interrupted, "and I really can't tell you any more than I have, which is probably too much as it is." She restarted the elevator. "It is only a week and I should be safe. Please don't worry."

"Oh, well, in that case…" Tony caught the warning in her brief glance and changed the subject. "Gibbs was surprisingly okay with it. I thought he was gonna yell. At you, anyway. Maybe at Jenny a little."

She rolled her eyes as if the reason were obvious. "I believe he is saving it."

"So you're saying he's gonna yell at us later?"

"I am saying that you should be glad you are not Burt Avery right now."


	21. Chapter 21

"Where is he?"

"Morocco."

"Gibbs is in Morocco?"

"What? No. Don't smile at me like that. I have already told you far more than I should have."

"Heh. Well, where is Gibbs? Poor little Probie looks like a little lost kitty waiting for someone to pick him up and pet him."

"He is not even facing us, Tony. How can you tell that from the back of his head?"

"I happen to be a very good judge of body language. Turn around and I'll tell you what you're thinking."

"Tony… Fine."

"You're an idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"No! I mean, that was what you were thinking, right?"

"Lucky guess."

"Let me try it again. Mmmmm."

"Well?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. I was distracted by your ass. I'm gonna miss it while you're gone."

"I didn't choose this."

"You didn't say no."

"Tony…"

"Sssh. There's the boss."

* * *

McGee fiddled with the memory card containing the casino security footage between his fingertips as he waited for Gibbs to arrive in Interrogation. He tried to keep his thoughts focused on the task at hand, but the odd scene in the squad room had him worried. Not only was Ziva about to disappear again, albeit with advance warning this time, but Gibbs was concerned enough about whatever she was going to be doing that he was giving she and Tony the night off. And not yelling at them for being all over each other in the office. And giving them time alone in Observation. Well, they wouldn't do anything with the tech sitting right there – unless they got off on that kind of…

McGee made a small noise of disgust, drawing the attention of Burt Avery, who was sitting across the table looking apprehensive. "Are you planning to ask me any questions?"

"That would be my job." McGee looked to his right as Gibbs closed the door as silently as he'd opened it.

Avery seemed to go through a progression of tension and relaxation as Gibbs slowly circled the table, reading from an open file. "Agent Gibbs, I'll be happy to tell you anything you need to hear about that sleazy brother of Greg's. That guy is a…"

Gibbs interrupted, "I'm more interested in what you have to say about Frank Bilotti."

"I…can't say I've ever heard that name."

"McGee?"

McGee jumped out of his seat and ran the film. "This was filmed at the bar at Foxwoods where Glen Nelson works. There you are. And…"

"McGee," Gibbs cut him off. He turned back to Avery. "Who's your friend?"

"Well, that's just a guy that Glen knows. He introduced us."

"Seems like you two hit it off."

"He was nice enough. Bought me a drink."

"Right." Gibbs jerked his chin slightly and McGee ran the footage ahead to the following encounter. "And what about this time?"

"Well, that was…I was…you see…He was giving me some tips on poker. I don't really understand the game, but…"

"That why you lost all that money playing it every Saturday?"

"I don't know what…"

Gibbs removed a piece of paper from the file and slid it across the table. "You do know that the casinos keep some pretty accurate records."

"You must have me confused with some other Burt Avery."

"And you must have me confused with a _jackass_." In a flash, Gibbs' calm demeanor was gone, replaced with an angry tension. He sprang out of his seat and walked around the table, leaning over Avery's shoulder and hissing, "Your wife told us you go volunteer for hours every Saturday at the veterans' home in Charlotte Hall. Funny how they've never heard of you but the casino in Connecticut has."

From his position of relative safety by the plasma screen, McGee watched Avery wipe his brow with a shaky hand. "I'm telling you there's been a misunderstanding!"

"You keep lying to me, Burt, and you're gonna find out exactly what a misunderstanding there's been."

* * *

"Did that make sense to you?"

"What, exactly?"

"I didn't think there was any misunderstanding on our part. Burt told Bilotti to bump off his son-in-law so he could pay off his gambling debt. I think it's pretty clear."

"I believe Gibbs was just using his tone of voice to frighten Avery into confessing. Hm. It seems to have worked on McGee as well. I thought you were just bragging about your skilled interpretations of body language?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Stop standing behind me."

"Is this better?"

"You are lucky Gibbs can't see us."

"I think he only has eyes for Burt at the moment."

"Hey. Hands outside my clothes."

"Killjoy. Oh, look. Breakdown in three, two, one…"

* * *

Although he knew it was probably a bad idea, McGee was considering pulling Gibbs back from his ominous hovering when Avery burst into sobs. "He…he was only supposed to kill Greg! He wasn't supposed to hurt Joanne or Harry! He just…he told me he'd kill me if he didn't get that money and I didn't know where I was going to come up with it until I remember those life insurance policies Greg took out when he married my daughter, just in case something happened when he was on active duty. Oh, God. I as good as killed my daughter!"

"Yeah. We know." Gibbs was grimly smug as he returned to his seat on the opposite side of the table. "Are you ready to tell the truth?"

Avery nodded. The truth, as it was told over the following twenty minutes, matched the other accounts and suppositions they'd worked out in the past few hours. There were a few embellishments about how Bilotti had threatened Avery and some added details regarding their deal, but nothing surprising until Avery began to describe his actions from the previous day. "And when I heard that Harry was going to be staying your agents, I called the number he gave me and passed that information along."

"Hold on," McGee interrupted, in spite of his better instincts. "Are you saying you're the one who told Bilotti how to get to Harry? Your own grandson?"

"You have no idea what that man is capable of! The things he said he'd do to me! I fought in Korea and this bastard was still the scariest thing I'd ever seen!"

"Maybe you'll get lucky and draw him as your cellmate." Gibbs flipped his file closed. "McGee, let's give Mr. Avery a moment."

He followed Gibbs into Interrogation, arriving just in time to see Tony step hastily away from where he'd been standing directly behind Ziva, arms around her waist. "That was a good line about the cellmate, boss. I'm ashamed I didn't think of it myself."

"You believe him?"

Ziva answered the question clearly addressed to her. "He appears to be telling the truth. Finally," she added as an afterthought.

"Think we should charge Glen Nelson with anything?"

"You are asking me?"

"Are you the only team member in the room?"

"He put some holes in Maid Marion's ceiling," Tony volunteered. "Wanna ask what she thinks?"

"He cooperated with us and gave us the gambling angle on the case."

Tony gave him a sarcastic look. "He _confirmed_ the gambling angle we already suspected, Probe Girl. Huh. That sounded more like 'showgirl' in my head."

"We were looking at Greg Nelson as the gambler, Tony. Glen Nelson told us that Avery was the one who made the deal with Bilotti."

"Yeah, well…we would have figured it out when Grandpa Save-My-Own-Ass started chucking money at his Mobster buddy. And there was no way he could know Bilotti wouldn't roll to protect himself, which…don't get me started on how weird that sounds…"

"Right. Cut Nelson loose," Gibbs ordered. "Just make sure he's willing to continue cooperating."

Ziva caught his arm before he could leave the room. "He asked to see his nephew several times. I do not think he is any threat to the boy."

"Not up to me. Social Services is handling everything to do with Harry now."

* * *

"And I thought the whole will we or won't we reproduce would be the most consuming issue we'd have today."

"Let it go, Tony. While I'm gone you can eat pizza every night and throw your dirty laundry wherever you choose."

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"My leaving or our reproducing?"

"Uh…when you put it like that, I don't know anymore. I suppose the first one, since that's happening tomorrow."

"I will be back in a week, possibly tan and most likely annoyed."

"I want you to stay here."

"I know. Hey, where did I tell you to keep your hands?"

"Aw, c'mere."

"Tony…"

"Mmm?"

"Mmmmm."

"Hm. Heh heh."

"You guys realize I'm in the elevator with you?"

"Oh. Sorry, McGee. That color just makes you kinda fade into the paneling."


	22. Chapter 22

Ziva rested her head on Tony's shoulder in spite of McGee's disapproving looks. They'd been watching and rewatching the bar security footage from the casino since Gibbs had finished with Burt Avery over an hour ago. She was starting to get impatient to leave, although it was barely past noon; Tony's constant looks and touches must have been having their intended effect. She shifted her seat beside him on the edge of his desk and asked no one in particular, "Why are we still looking at this?"

McGee paused the video. "We're trying to find any evidence of Bilotti making other deals. Gibbs thinks we can hang onto him long enough to prosecute for the Nelson murders if we can find something to dangle over the FBI's collective head."

"Uh, we have the murder weapon that can tie him to a half-dozen of their open cases." Tony loosened his crossed arms as she looped her hand into the crook of his elbow. "Can't we just use that?"

"They don't know that we hacked their files."

"Well, yeah, but weren't the ballistics posted on the…that thing Abby uses that comes up with the flashing lights? Some database?"

"True, but…" McGee paused. "Why _did_ Gibbs tell us to do this?"

"I believe he is trying to keep us busy." Ziva glanced in the direction of the room where the woman from Social Services was sequestered with Harry, Marion Avery and now Glen Nelson. Avery had left the meeting for a short time and high-pitched fit when Gibbs had informed her that her husband had been charged with the murders of their daughter and son-in-law. "They are going to put Harry into foster care, yes?"

"Probably," McGee agreed.

"Don't get any bright ideas," Tony added. "We're not applying for anything."

She looked at him critically. "Did I suggest that?"

"No, but…why'd you bring it up?"

"I was going to say that I don't think his grandmother is capable of taking care of him, but he seems quite attached to his uncle. Would they allow him to adopt Harry?"

"No idea. It'll probably help that we're not charging him with anything, but…not up to us." Tony shrugged and turned his attention back to the plasma. "How much longer to we have to pretend to watch this crap?"

"Start your paperwork, if you think that is more exciting."

He nuzzled the side of her face with his nose. "If you want excitement…"

They both jerked forward simultaneously with impacts on the back of their heads. "You're mine until five." Gibbs walked past them to his desk, coffee in one hand.

Tony whispered in her ear, "How'd he get both of us?"

"I thought it was worth putting the coffee down, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "Your own desks. Now."

Ziva sighed and stood, but a movement just visible down the hall prevented her from obeying the order. "It appears the conference is over."

Harry, clutching his stuffed panda, made his way over to the bullpen, apparently unnoticed by his uncle and grandmother, who were arguing with the social worker. "Hi, Ziva."

"Hello, Harry."

He scuffed his sneakers against the carpet for a moment before looking up at her with a pleading expression. "Are you mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad?"

"I yelled. I told you I would be brave, but then I got scared and yelled. I'm sorry."

She knelt in front of him. "You do not have to apologize."

"Can I stay with you and Tony and McGee?" he asked, suddenly wrapping his arms around her neck. "That lady said I can't stay with my grandma or Uncle Glen and that I have to go stay with strangers for a while. I was safe with you though, so can I come back?"

"I'm afraid that is against the rules."

"But it wasn't last night."

"Last night was different. No one is trying to hurt you now."

He sniffled. "Is it true that my grandpa…that my grandpa told the bad man about me?"

She patted his back gently as she hugged him. "I'm sorry, Harry."

Tony walked over and ruffled Harry's hair, causing him to finally loosen his hold on Ziva's neck. "It'll be okay, kid. Anyway, I'm sure you'd be disappointed to hear that McGee doesn't actually live with us."

He looked up at Tony. "That's okay. He can still visit and tell bedtime stories, right?"

"Nice try. I think it might be time for you to go, though. Everyone is waiting for you at the elevator."

Harry frowned, but acquiesced, hugging Tony, McGee and Gibbs before returning to Ziva. "Are you gonna keep my picture up behind your desk?"

She glanced at the drawing he had done the previous day. "Of course. You take care." She hugged him again before the social worker took his hand and led him away.

Tony rested his hand on the small of her back as Harry waved from the elevator. "Well…that's over."

She nodded. "For now."

"What?"

"Relax. I meant that I hope we'll hear from him again once everything has worked out."

"At least he doesn't think we're all magical wizards anymore." He grinned and winked before returning to his desk. The rest of the day passed slowly but uneventfully. At quarter to five, Gibbs glared at them both before jerking his head toward the elevator. Riding down to the parking lot a few minutes later, Ziva pulled out her phone to find he was calling. "Hello?"

"Come back safe, David. Both of you."

"We will be fine, Gibbs."

"Good." He hung up without saying goodbye.

Tony gave her a questioning look. "I doubt he was expressing concern that you're going to tire me out too much to make it to work tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it." She was surprised when he didn't push, but followed her silently out to his car. "Let's go home."

"How about dinner first? Somewhere quiet, with lobster."

"Not just lobster, I hope."

"No, they've got a fantastic seared ahi tuna too."

"Was I going to get any input on this decision?"

"I didn't just tie you up and shove you in the car, did I?" His eyes widened as he put on his seatbelt. "Hope I'm not giving you any bright ideas."

"As if I need your help." She pecked his cheek. "We need to go pick up my car before we do anything else."

"Right." The ride to their old street was comfortably quiet. He caught her hand when she moved to get out of the car. "Ziva…let's just go home."

She smiled. "I'll meet you there."

The End

* * *

A/N: Thank you to all who read, doubly so to reviewers. Continuation in a new story will be coming soon.


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